


End of Innocence

by Akatsuki_Celeste



Series: The Golden Age [1]
Category: Saint Seiya, 聖闘士星矢: 冥王神話 | Saint Seiya: The Lost Canvas
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2019-09-15 10:41:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 41,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16931757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akatsuki_Celeste/pseuds/Akatsuki_Celeste
Summary: Every 250 years, the Goddess Athena is reborn mortal - as well as her twelve guardian stars, those destined to one day take up the mantle of the Zodiac. Now, in the 20th century, the stars have foretold of the goddess' next incarnation, and her chosen twelve now must cast aside the innocence of childhood to take up their destinies. And in the shadows, the darkness awaits...





	1. Aquarius: Part One

**Author's Note:**

> So, this story was initially published on FF.net back in 2012 - it's still being hosted there, although it hasn't been updated in...an awkwardly long amount of time. Due to various Life Things, I was forced into an unexpectedly long hiatus - one that I'm determined to rise up from. I'll be reposting the currently written chapters of EoI here on AO3 over the course of the next few weeks, while I dust off my current WIPs, polish them up, and get them ready for consumption. 
> 
> Note: The initial chapters of this story are on the short side compared to the later ones - this is due to changes in my writing style, and a change in how I wanted to present the story. Rather than rewriting and combining these initial chapters to make them fit the later ones better, I've decided to simply repost them as they were originally released for simplicity's sake. Be advised that chapters will increase in length as the story progresses. 
> 
> End of Innocence was intended to be a tribute to my great Saint Seiya loves, the Gold Saints, but it has since taken on a life of its own - it is, in fact, the first segment of a multi-story saga that I hope to be able to bring to fruition. It won't be a quick journey, but I hope that there are those out there willing to embark on it with me. I enjoy kudos, comments, reviews... anything to let me know what people think. If you've already read EoI over on FF.net, then thank you for supporting its revival on AO3 - and if you're just joining me for the first time, I hope you like what I have to offer enough to stay with me. Saint Seiya, and especially the Gold Saints, have always held a special place in my heart, and I hope this story gives them an adequate voice.

The young boy stood before the sprawling fields, orchards, and stone and wood buildings, his eyes slightly wide in amazement as he took in all that he could see. The clear blue sky, the stretched out green fields, the warm sun overheard – all of it was a far cry from the snowy tundra of the Siberian cold that he had spent the majority of his young years in.

Beyond the fields, orchards, and groves stood the training grounds, and he took a moment to drink in the sight of the illustrious Coliseum of Sanctuary. He'd seen it only in pictures; the thought of actually getting to train in such a place sent a rush through his veins. Other training grounds peeked out from the distance, teasing him with he could see. He knew, just from his lessons, that there were half a dozen other landmarks that he simply couldn't make out from the hill he stood upon, but it was the final point, standing further beyond in the distance, that caught and held his attention the moment his eyes focused upon them.

The temples of the Gold Zodiac. In their size and illustrious design he could see them clearly, standing out among the ridges, peaks, and slopes of the mountains in the backdrop. Their path would wind up through the mountainside, he knew – beginning with the Temple of Aries and ending with the Temple of Pisces before reaching the Kyoko's Chamber and Athena's Colossus. Not all the temples were visible from where he stood, some of them hidden by others from view, but he knew they were there. The homes of the twelve Gold Saints, defenders of Athena and guardians of Sanctuary itself.

His heart gave a nervous thud within his chest. He was here. He was  _finally_  here.

"Wow! It's bigger than I remember!"

Startled out of his reverie, the youth turned to his left. He found a boy about his own age standing next to him, shaggy blue-violet hair trailing down his back with nothing securing it, wearing clothing of traditional Greek design – which reminded him that he was going to need to invest in some lighter clothing to keep from overheating in the Mediterranean climate. Wearing his heavy furred tunic, pants, and boots, he felt decidedly overdressed and out of place.

The new arrival didn't seem to notice his odd dress, however, his gaze instead fixed on the same setting that he'd been taking in only minutes before. "Amazing," the boy said with a touch of awe. "It's only been a couple of years since the last time I was here, but you'd think that it'd seem smaller as I got bigger, right? But it doesn't."

"You've… been here before?" he couldn't help asking. He hadn't. He'd been taken from his family in France and brought to Siberia at a young age, but had never actually laid eyes on the Sanctuary until now.

"Sure. I trained over on Milos Island, right in the area, so my master brought me here a couple of times." The youth flashed him a grin. "This your first time? Pretty impressive, right? Where do you train? What's your name? What brings you here? How old are you?" The rapid-fire surge of questions threatened to overwhelm the other, blue eyes widening.

"I, ah…" Which to answer first? He was pretty certain he'd never met anyone with the capacity to talk so quickly before. "Siberia…I trained in Siberia. My, ah, my master brought me…my name is –"

"Camus!" The gentle, yet authoritative, voice of his master rang out from further ahead on the path, the Russian accent making him sound gruffer than he really was. "It is time! Come along!"

"Ah – my master," Camus said, looking at the other boy. "I must go, I've loitered too long."

The boy's expression drooped with disappointment. "Oh, all right." Then he perked up again. "Maybe we'll see each other again. I've never been to Siberia. I'd love to hear more about it. Is it  _really_  as cold as they say it is? I hear there's snow all year long up there!"

Camus opened his mouth, feeling himself grow flustered, but the insistent tone of his master saved him. "I'm sorry," he stammered out, "I have to go." Without giving the boy another chance to start a new barrage, he hurried along the path ahead of them.

"Don't forget to find me before you leave!" the boy called behind him. "Promise!"

Camus lifted his hand in a noncommittal wave and didn't look behind him. The truth was that the chance of him running into the boy again was slim. The boy, after all, was only a visitor and would likely return to his training ground once his own master had finished his business at Sanctuary. Camus, however, would not be returning to Siberia any time soon.

For it was Camus, not his master, who had been summoned to Sanctuary – for the highest of honors, and one that would change his life forever.

It was incredibly unlikely that he would ever meet the boy again.

****

***.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.***

****

Although the Kyoko's Chambers were located at the top of Sanctuary, few Saints were permitted access to those secluded rooms. Instead, the Kyoko held his audiences at the base of the mountain in a large antechamber, and it was to here that Camus' master escorted him. The young boy's heart pounded with nervous anticipation. He'd been preparing for this for years, but somehow he'd always felt as if it would still be years off. When he was twelve, perhaps. Or thirteen.

Not six years old.

With his master's hand resting lightly on his shoulder, two armed guards escorted them into the large antechamber, and Camus' heart quickened in one-two time. Seated at the far end of the room was a man whose mere presence commanded attention and respect, despite the obsidian mask that he wore to conceal his face. The Kyoko of Sanctuary, former Aries Saint of Athena, survivor of the Holy War of the 18th Century – Kyoko Shion.

His master stopped, and Camus halted, immediately looking up at him with wide eyes. The older Saint motioned for him to go forward – he was not permitted to advance. Only Camus could go forward now.

Tentatively the youth walked along the carpeted path, and as he drew closer he realized that he was not the only Saint trainee in the room. Already kneeling before the Kyoko were two more boys near his age; one had long blonde hair that trailed down his back near to his waist, the other short sandy locks. Neither boy looked intimidating in their own right – Camus knew  _he_ didn't – and yet…yet there was a presence about them that drew his eyes to them.

He didn't realize that he'd stopped walking to stare at the two boys until a throat was cleared, and a slightly muffled voice that spoke with gentle amusement said, "You may come forward, young Camus."

A flush struck Camus' cheeks when he realized that the Kyoko himself was speaking to him, and he hurried gracelessly to cover the last feet and kneel alongside the other two. He resisted the urge to glance at them and get a better look. The sandy-haired boy fidgeted alongside him, as if fighting that same urge and having less success; the blonde seemed not to react in the slightest.

A silence fell over the chamber, and though they were hidden behind the mask, Camus could feel the Kyoko's eyes upon the three of them. His mouth dry with nervousness, he waited anxiously to see what would happen next. What if…what if he wasn't found worthy? What if, upon seeing him, Kyoko Shion determined that he couldn't possibly be up to the task set before him? Camus knew he was destined to be a Saint, but…to be given such an honor at  _his_  age was unheard of.

"Welcome to Sanctuary," Shion said. "Raise your heads – there is no need to keep your eyes lowered. I was in the same position as you, once."

Tentatively Camus looked up, and saw that the other two boys had done the same – though to his surprise, the blonde still had his eyes closed despite the lifting of his head. The only other person Camus had ever known who did so was a blind man in the village he and his master lived in, but he didn't sense the same handicap from this youth. No one else seemed to find it odd, however, and he dismissed it from his thoughts. There were more important things to attend to.

He turned his attention back to Shion.

"The three of you," Shion said, looking at them, "have been chosen for a very specific and special duty. I'm sure you have all wondered at how you could possibly be called to such a task at your ages – and it is true that I would rather have waited until you were older and more trained before bringing you before me. But destiny and fate move to their own beat, and I am afraid we no longer have the luxury of time. The stars have foretold that our Goddess with soon return among us, and we must be ready."

He paused and turned his head slightly to the side. "Saga. Where is Aolios?"

From beside the Kyoko's throne stepped a teenage boy dressed in a simple lavender tunic and dark breeches, and yet for the all the simplicity of the design the garbs were obviously made of the finest materials. Hair of midnight blue hung loose around his shoulders, cobalt eyes briefly glancing at the three boys before turning their attention to the Kyoko. "He was aware that we were summoned here, Kyoko Shion," Saga said respectfully. "I don't know what would be keeping him. Would you like me to find him?"

"No… I suppose we can continue without him. I don't want to keep these three waiting like this much longer, I imagine their nerves are already frayed." He chuckled softly, and Camus blushed at the Kyoko's words. At the same time he found himself marveling – here was the Kyoko, the leader of Sanctuary in Athena's absence, and he was speaking before them as if they were his equals! Camus' master had drilled respect into him when preparing for the meeting with the Kyoko, and Camus had expected a stern, solemn man. The sandy-haired boy seemed to be fighting back a smile – at the mention of this Aiolos, his eyes had lit up.

Shion turned back to them, and just as he did, the doors to the chambers opened with a bang and caused everyone – Kyoko included – to jump in surprise. The guards immediately reached for their weapons, but just as quickly relaxed as two figures came into the hall. One of them was much smaller than the other, and being dragged along by his arm. The other, a tall youth of about Saga's age with short, windswept dark brown hair and a tanned complexion, was striding purposefully towards them.

Still holding his captive, he paused behind the three and lowered himself in a brief bow. "Forgive me for being late, Kyoko," he said. "I was on my way here when I found  _this_  one," he tugged on the arm, "sneaking around. It took me awhile to figure out where he was  _supposed_  to be. Seems he ditched his master and decided to explore on his own."

The boy scowled. "I was just looking around," he said defensively, and Camus reacted before he could stop himself, twisting around to stare at the boy – and instantly recognized him as the boy from earlier. Sneaking around Sanctuary without his master? Such  _audacity_  – Camus couldn't believe he'd dared. He braced himself for the reprimand that he was sure to come.

Instead the Kyoko merely fixed his gaze upon the boy. "Thank you, Aiolos," Shion said. "You may take your place alongside Saga."

Aiolos (so  _this_  was Aiolos) nodded and released the boy's arm, fixing him with a stern look before moving to stand alongside the other teen. Camus eyed the boy, watching as he stood fidgeting, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Clearly he knew that he had overstepped boundaries he shouldn't have, but was unsure of what the Kyoko's response would be.

The Kyoko looked at him for a silent length of time before finally speaking. "Your name, child?"

The boy looked at him sheepishly. "Milo," he said, and then hastily added, "Kyoko. Sir."

The sandy-haired youth glanced in Aiolos' direction and bit his lip as he tried to hold back laughter.

"Take a knee, young Milo." Hesitantly Milo stepped forward to do the same, next to Camus and at the end of the line. Camus waited for Shion to finish with him, send him on his way, and continue.

Instead Shion rose to his feet and stepped down from his dais, coming to stand before them. Starting with the blonde and working his way down the row, he placed his hand upon each of their heads. "Virgo Shaka," he said to the blonde. "Leo Aiolia," to the sandy-haired youth. "Aquarius Camus." Here, his hand upon Camus' own head. "And Scorpio Milo." Much to Camus' utter shock, a hand upon the head of the abrasive youth beside him.

Shion stepped back and looked at them fully. "Rise before me, Gold Saints of Athena. Welcome to Sanctuary."


	2. Aquarius, Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "It almost doesn't seem fair, taking away their childhood like this."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who left comments and kudos on the first chapter - knowing that there are still people interested in reading this story from it's original release as well as new fans has been a wonderful boost to my determination. I hope you continue to enjoy the next parts to come!

"This is so  _cool!_  I had no idea there were going to be other new Gold Saints here aside from me, or I would have told you about it before. But my master, he said I shouldn't brag, that some people might have a problem with a kid my age getting that kind of promotion, so I was trying really hard to not say anything. So you're Aquarius, huh? That's kind of fitting if you trained in Siberia. Ice, water, it's a lot of the same thing, right? How long have you known you were going to be chosen? My master didn't tell me until I was summoned, but I heard some Saints know from the moment they're born which Cloth they get. So there are four of us, right? But twelve Cloths. Huh. I wonder who the other ones are. Maybe we'll –"

A sharp laugh from behind cut Milo off, and a hand landed on top of his head to ruffle his hair. "The gods have certainly blessed  _you_  with an inquisitive mind, didn't they?" Aiolos asked, coming up behind the four boys. "I can almost forgive you for sneaking around before – clearly you have more curiosity than that body of yours can contain. But you might want to tone it down a bit. You're giving Saga there a headache."

Saga, who had been leading the new arrivals along the path leading up to the Temples, looking at Aiolos over his shoulder. "No more than you do on a regular basis," he replied calmly, earning him a grin from the broader teen. "I thought it better to just let him get it out of his system."

Aiolos grinned, stepping around them. "Anyway, to answer your question," he said, "Seven of the Gold Cloths, including yours, are already claimed. There's the four of you, Libra is in the hands of the master of the Five Peaks training ground, and then the two of us." He clasped Saga's shoulder. "Saga here holds the Gemini Cloth, and I –"

"Aiolos is the Sagittarius Saint!" Aiolia burst out, beaming up at the older teen in clear idol worship. "He's the strongest, fastest, bravest Saint  _ever!_ "

Aiolos grinned. "In the eyes of my little brother, at the very least," he said, winking at Saga. The other teen just shook his head, but Camus thought he saw a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Little brother –  _that_  explained that.

Milo turned to look at Aiolia. "So you're the Leo Saint and your brother is the Sagittarius Saint?" he asked. "Do family members become Saints a lot? Is it hereditary? Like, if I have a brother, could he be a Saint? Or if a Saint has kids, could they become Saints? But not always the same Saint, right? I mean, there's only one Saint per Cloth."

"Sometimes it runs in a family – they say that Cosmo is tied into bloodlines," Saga replied, a flicker of…something…passing through his eyes.

Milo nodded. "Cool," he said, reusing his favorite word. "So what about the other Cloths? Aries, Taurus, Cancer, Capricorn, and um…um..."

"Pisces," supplied the quiet voice of Shaka. The blonde boy was walking slightly behind the rest of them – and he still hadn't opened his eyes.

"Right, Pisces. That's the fish."

Aiolos wasn't even trying to hide his amusement now, and Aiolia couldn't keep back his laughter. Camus just stared at Milo. He didn't think he'd ever heard  _anyone_  talk so much, so fast, and with such… randomness in word choice as the Scorpio youth seemed to be capable of.

"The Aries Saint has already been selected, but is receiving specialized training before being inducted to Sanctuary," Saga replied. "The boy is the Kyoko's trainee, and your age. The remaining candidates have yet to be determined, though they will all be brought here once the Kyoko decides. Until then, the four of you will continue your training both individually and as a group."

That made Camus pause. "But our masters returned to their training grounds," he said, looking at Saga in confusion. How were they supposed to continue their training without their masters?

"Just because your former masters will no longer be overseeing your training does not mean that you have completed it," Saga replied. He looked at Aiolos, who gave a slight nod. "The four of you should know enough about your specialized techniques to lead your own training, and Aiolos and I will be guiding you in general combat training."

Seizing the opportunity before Milo could begin asking more questions, Saga motioned to the building ahead of them. "Although there will come a time when you will all assume your positions at your respective temples, the Kyoko has decided that for now you will be sharing living quarters within these barracks."

Camus felt a rush of relief at that. He knew that the Gold Saints held individual living quarters within their temples, but he didn't think himself ready for solitary living. He was used to having his master, and one or two other trainees, around. He wasn't especially social but… there was a difference between  _choosing_  to be alone, and being forced into separation.

"Do you two live here, too?" Aiolia asked. He looked at his brother brightly as the older Saints led the four of them into the clean, but well furnished, building

"No, Saga and I have been living in our temples for awhile now," Aiolos replied. He motioned around the first room. "This is the common room, and down those halls," here he pointed to three separate hallways leading off from the main room, "are where the bedrooms are located. There's a kitchen, but I don't imagine any of you cook, so you'll be having meals with one or both of us unless Shion requests your presence. There are six bedrooms total, two down each hallway. You'll be doubling up."

"Why?" This from Shaka, turning his head in Aiolos' direction. "If there are four of us, and six rooms?"

"Eventually you'll be joined by the other trainees," Saga replied, "and the Kyoko would rather you start sharing now." The firmness of his tone indicated that there would be no argument. "Shaka and Aiolia will share one room, and Camus and Milo another."

Much to Camus' dismay, Milo grinned broadly at that, giving the new Aquarius Saint a bright, eager look. At that moment Camus was absolutely certain he was never going to get a full night of sleep until he was able to move into his temple.

"We'll give you some time to claim rooms and get situated," Aiolos said, "and will come back for you at mealtime. Some of you have had to travel quite the distance to get here." He motioned to Saga, and with that, the two Saints excused themselves and left the four alone for the first time.

  
***.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.***  


"I'm not convinced leaving them on their own so soon is such a good idea," Aiolos said with a shake of his head, one hand resting on his hip as he and Saga traveled the Temple path towards Gemini. Although only two of the Temples had guardians present now, the restrictions in place still required them to travel through the others. "They're only six years old."

"And they've been trained as Saints for nearly that long," Saga replied. "You know their advancement in training is one of the reasons why they were selected for their positions."

"Advancement in training is not the same as social maturity," Aiolos replied, "no matter how strong their Cosmo is. You and I had more time."

"Yes – because we were born sooner." Saga shook his head and looked at the Sagittarius Saint. "The stargazers say that Athena will be born within the year. The Kyoko is preparing for her arrival, and part of that preparation is assembling as much of her guard as possible. And of the eighty-eight Saints it is the twelve Gold Saints that are the most vital. If Athena  _is_  born soon, it will still be many years before she reaches her full maturity. They will have time to grow into their roles." Saga paused. "Is this because of your brother? You've known Aiolia would be the Leo Saint for far longer than  _he_  knew."

Aiolos gave a sigh. "It's partly because of Aiolia, although I know that he'll adapt easily enough. But I'm the least worried about him. I know him the best. The other three… we don't know anything about them, Saga."

"Shaka has spent the first years of his life raised and training at a Buddhist monastery in India," Saga said quietly. "When he was a year old he had already received recognition as a Bodhisattva. It wouldn't surprise me if, once he comes into his full maturity, he has the strongest Cosmo of us all."

Aiolos' eyebrows lifted at this revelation. "That explains the fact that he spoke the least out of all of them," he replied. "I assumed it was just because Milo talked enough for ten people. So who told you all of this – Shion?"

Saga nodded. "He gave me some of their background. As for the other two, Milo trained here in Greece, on Milos Island, and according to his former master has a reputation of being…trying at best. Although he didn't come right out and imply it, Shion got the impression that Milo's likely used to getting his own way and having the run of the place. Hence the blatant lack of decorum and the constant chatter.

"As for Camus, he was described as having a calm personality and high intellect, and he's already mastered several ice-based techniques. In all honesty I could see him being a better match for Shaka in temperament, and Milo more suited for Aiolia."

"Probably why Shion set up the room assignments the way that he did," Aiolos said with a laugh. "So from those backgrounds, do  _you_  think they'll be able to manage themselves without supervision?"

Saga paused, and then gave a slight shrug of his shoulder. "Who can say? All we can do is wait and see."

"That's a big help."

By this point the two had reached the steps of Gemini, and as one both of them stopped and turned to look back down the path. They were high enough now that they could see the top of the communal living quarters where they had left the children. "It almost doesn't seem fair," Aiolos said softly, "taking away their childhood like this."

"It's the sacrifice all Saints must make," Saga replied. "It is our duty, and our destiny."

"It still doesn't feel right." Shaking his head, Aiolos turned back to make his way through to his own Temple. "I'll see you at mealtime, Saga." Without waiting for a response, he disappeared into the darkness of the Gemini Temple, leaving its guardian alone at the head of the stairs.

Saga stood for a moment longer, looking down at the building, before turning and going inside as well.


	3. Aquarius: Part Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What did it matter if other people had faith in him, if he didn't have it in himself?

" _Wow._  This is so much better than my room on Milos Island." Milo rushed across the room and threw himself on one of the beds, bouncing slightly from the impact. "Can I have this bed, Camus? You don't mind, do you?"

Camus looked from one bed to the other. "There's no difference," he replied with a slight shrug of indifference. The beds were spaced the same distance from the door, with a large picture window positioned opposite the door and between the two. If they drew a line down the center of the room, each side would be a near perfect mirror image of the other. Matching beds, matching wardrobes, matching side tables. There were two doors next to each wardrobe that upon inspection were revealed to be a closet and a bathroom respectively. Sanctuary might have been old-fashioned in décor, at the very least, but at least it had been updated with  _some_  modern amenities.

"Huh, no bathtub," Milo said, poking his head suddenly around Camus to look into the bathroom.

"I think there's a bathhouse," Camus replied, recalling seeing the building when he'd been walking with his master. Losing interest in exploring the small room, he wandered over to the bed that Milo had not claimed. He ran his fingers over the light bedding, a far cry from the heavy fur and woolen blankets he was used to. As with Saga and Aiolos' clothing, everything in the room was simplistically done, and yet done with the best of the best materials. Camus couldn't help but wonder if all Saints got this treatment – or if it was only because they were Gold.

"Communal? You mean, like, we all share? Yuck." Milo made a face and tugged the door shut. He turned to look at the other boy and grinned. "I bet we'll get our own once we move into the Temples, though. When do you think that'll be? Not that I mind sharing, but... but they're the  _Temples_." He went over to the widow and gazed out at the marble structures that wound their way up the mountainside. "I can't tell from here. Which one do you think is Scorpio?"

"Scorpio will be the eighth Temple from the bottom," Camus replied, opening up the empty wardrobe on his side and finding fresh, clean, and  _light_  clothing already waiting. Quickly he started tugging off his heavier clothing and replacing it with one of the cooler sleeveless tunics, although he left on his fur-covered leggings. "The Temple path starts with Aries on the bottom and ends with Pisces at the top, just before the Kyoko's Chambers."

Milo nodded slightly, his eyes searching the visible temples. Finally he sighed and shook his head, turning away from the window and leaning against it. "I don't think I can see it from here," he said with disappointment. "What about yours? Where's that?"

"Right below Pisces," Camus replied, recalling what his master had told him about the Temple path layout. "You probably can't see it from here."

"But someday, right? We'll get to see them eventually?" Milo looked at him from beneath thick, purple bangs, looking more childlike and eager than ever.

Camus found himself nodding, sitting on the edge of his bed. "Of course," he said. "When the Kyoko thinks we're strong enough to be able to guard our Temples, we'll be living there."

Milo nodded, and then in a burst of energy flopped back down onto his bed with a  _whomp_  upon impact. He tucked his hands behind his head, looking up at the ceiling. "We can visit each other once we move there, right?" he asked. "Not just be confined to our own? Can I come visit yours, Camus? You gotta go through mine to get to yours, but I don't have to go past mine unless I want to. Can I come see what yours is like?"

The questions surprised Camus – they were sudden and random, but somehow the teal-haired boy sensed that the answer was extremely important to Milo. "Okay," he replied, seeing no reason to say no. It was entirely likely that Milo would forget all about the request by then, anyway, and even if he didn't it wasn't that big of a deal.

There was no missing the bright smile that appeared on Milo's face at Camus' answer, and suddenly he was back on his feet again and bursting with energy. "I'm gonna go look around a bit more before Saga and Aiolos come back. You wanna come?"

Camus thought about it for a moment, and then shook his head. "No," he decided. "I think I'm going to lie down for a little bit. Maybe Shaka or Aiolia will?" His trip from Siberia had been long, and now that he'd been sitting for a few moments it was starting to catch up to him. Rest seemed like a good idea, and it did  _not_  seem like it was going to be found anywhere near Milo.

"Okay, maybe Aiolia," Milo said, nodding. "I don't think Shaka's too interested in people." And with that, he darted out of the room and across to the hall to the bedroom that the other two boys had claimed.

Camus lay back onto the bed. It was comfortable, but large – designed for a teenager or adult, not a child. It only served as another reminder to him about his youth and inexperience.

He'd heard the whispers and rumors that one of his master's students would be selected for the Aquarius Cloth, but Camus had never imagined that it would be  _him_  – the youngest of the four trainees in Siberia. How could he have imagined it? The Gold Saints were Athena's protectors, her guardians. They were the strongest of the strong, the bravest of the brave. And Camus…Camus was a  _child_. How could anyone think he was capable of protecting  _anyone_ , let alone a goddess?

_And yet,_  a voice whispered into his mind,  _you_ were _chosen. Doesn't that mean someone, somewhere, thinks you_ are _capable?_

The thought, oddly, didn't bring the young boy much comfort. What did it matter if other people had faith in him, if  _he_  didn't have it in himself?

***.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.***

Although their first few days within Sanctuary were quiet and calm, the four new Gold Saints were quickly indoctrinated into the hustle and bustle of training by their second week, and gradually fell into a routine over the following months. As promised, Aiolos and Saga oversaw their combat training, though the actual technique work was left to their own devices. Camus was nervous about this at first – he'd never trained by himself before – but after a few hours he found that he really  _did_  remember everything that his master had relentlessly drilled into his head. The Gold Saints were given a private training field, each of them granted an allotted time to be able to use it for their own personal use if they so chose.

Aside from combat training, nothing else was regimented for them. Use of their scheduled times was left to their discretion, but Camus was in no way confident enough to miss his allotted times, and even took advantage of the open moments when no one else was present. Sometimes he found Shaka already there, or passed Aiolia on the way – but never Milo. As far as Camus knew, aside from combat training Milo never set foot on the grounds. Oh, that wasn't to say he spent all of his time in the barracks or around Sanctuary goofing off; he'd disappear for entire stretches of time, and when he returned he'd be all exuberant energy and smiles. But he never offered where he'd been, and Camus had no interest in prying.

Now he pushed those thoughts from his mind, taking a deep breath as he stood in front of a large slab of rock set up in the center of the training grounds. It was late in the afternoon, lost past his scheduled time, but both his technique training and combat training hadn't been up to his personal standards and he'd found out that neither Shaka nor Aiolia had planned on using the field that day. He had every intention of taking advantage of the extra time, even if it meant working through the evening meal.

Closing his eyes, the young boy focused his mind as he reached deep within himself to build up his Cosmo. Unlike the other Saints, as an ice master (or one in training) Camus didn't use his Cosmo to create power within, but rather to diminish it in others. It was his ultimate goal to master the ability to reach Absolute Zero, the lowest temperature point, and only those able to reach the greatest of all goals of the Saints had any hope of reaching such a level.

Another deep breath, and Camus began to move his arms and legs, feeling his Cosmo surround him as he moved. When his master had first demonstrated this technique to him, he had almost fallen over in a childish fit of laughter. He hadn't, and when he had had to attempt it himself for the first time he suddenly understood the necessity for the movements; each step of the foot, each wave of the arm, was designed to channel one's Cosmo in a perfect line to execute the maneuver at its maximum potential. As strange and bewildering as some of the motions were to an observer, doing them, sensing them, was another matter entirely.

" _Diamond Dust!_ "

And Camus knew at once that he didn't have enough power behind the attack as his Cosmo flowed out of him, ice arching towards the stone slab – only to fall short and fizzle out, falling in snowflakes and ice shards towards the ground, melting before they even had a chance to touch.

Frustrated, Camus could only stare at the rapidly evaporating water particles. He knew that it wasn't the temperature he worked in; if he'd built up the right strength his attack would have maintained its own core temperature regardless of the outside. No, the technique had failed because of a problem within Camus himself, and it was  _that_  that frustrated him. The Diamond Dust was the simplest of all major ice attacks. He'd mastered it well over a year ago, and yet for the last few days he'd been lucky to get it to execute correctly. If he couldn't even maintain a constant Diamond Dust, how could he hope to master any of the more advanced techniques that his master had shown him?

How would he be able to reach Absolute Zero, let alone the Seventh Sense?

Camus' vision blurred, and to his horror he realized that it was due to the tears welling up in his eyes. Hurriedly he reached up and rubbed at them with the back of his hand, willing them away before anyone had the chance to see them. Crying during training? He'd be embarrassed if Shaka, Aiolia, or Milo saw him; mortified if Saga or Aiolos did. He was a Saint. He was  _Aquarius._  He was no longer afforded the same liberties other children took for granted.

And yet he stood there sniffling, holding back tears even after the last traces of his failed attack had vanished.

A shadow fell over him, and then a heavy but gentle hand landed upon his shoulder. "Why so distressed, young Camus?" a kind, soft voice asked.

Camus' eyes widened, and before he could stop himself he gasped and spun around, staring up into the kind eyes of the Kyoko himself. He remembered his shock the first time he had seen the Kyoko without his mask; Shion, former Aries Saint, might not have the strength in him to don his armor any longer, but his eyes betrayed the powerful spirit of a legendary Saint. Camus had only seen him a handful of times since his initial welcoming, and never outside of the audience chamber. He couldn't help but gape for a moment. Not only was Shion without his mask, but he was also without the traditional robes, wearing a much more functional tunic and pants, a hooded cloak fastened around his shoulders. Although Shion's age was betrayed by the white of his hair and the lines of his face, he still retained a powerful sense of vigor that made him seem far younger than his two hundred plus years. It would be a mistake to  _ever_  call this man aged.

Camus realized that he was standing there with his mouth open like a fish, and hurriedly snapped it shut as a blush crept up along his neck. He stepped back slightly and gave an awkward bow. "K-Kyoko," he stammered.

Shion chuckled, pulling his hand back. "There is no need to bow in my presence now, Camus," he said. "We aren't in the audience chambers, nor in a formal setting. Here we are simply two Saints exchanging a greeting. Now, tell me – what is it that distresses you?"

Camus' blush only grew worse as the words registered and he realized that Shion must have seen his lapse in strength. "I…" He hesitated, knowing that he should not lay his problems on Shion's shoulders, and yet… yet. "I am having difficulty with my technique training," he said, a touch of shame creeping into his voice. With the way that Shion looked at him, it was impossible not to tell him the honest truth.

"You're here every day, are you not?" Shion asked, and Camus nodded. "Not only for your scheduled times, but also afterwards, when the training area is not in use. You come here as soon as it's available and do not leave until evening falls – and even then Aiolos tells me he has to come and retrieve you."

Camus gave another slow nod – after all, it was true.

"Why?" Shion's question brought surprise, followed by confusion, to Camus' face. "Why do you feel the need to push yourself so hard? You haven't even been within Sanctuary for a month, young Camus. Barely two weeks. What drives you?"

Camus swallowed. Why? He didn't understand. Wasn't the answer obvious? And yet Shion didn't seem to know. He was waiting for Camus to tell him.

"I'm…I'm a Gold Saint," Camus replied shakily. "But I…I'm not  _strong_  enough… I'm not  _trained_  enough… I'm not  _ready_ …" He felt his lower lip tremble slightly and pressed them together tightly to force it to stop.

"Is that what you think?" Shion sounded amused, and Camus raised his head to look at him. "Camus, the mere fact that you were granted the Aquarius Cloth in the first place means that you  _are_ ready for such a responsibility. It is true that most Saints are not granted their Cloths before their teenage years, but many are ready for them far in advance. I wish I could have staved off placing this responsibility upon your shoulders for a few more years – but circumstances being what they are, I had no other option.

"Yes, you must still train. You are not quite at the level of Aiolos and Saga, and it may take some years before you reach it. But then, they are older than you; they've had more time to train, more time to grow. You cannot compare yourself to them as they are now, and no one expects you to."

"But I can't even maintain the techniques I  _have_  mastered!" Camus blurted out. "My Diamond Dust… I can't build up the strength of Cosmo to sustain it! How am I supposed to find the Seventh Sense if I can't even master the most basic technique?"

Shion went quiet, and the silence was enough that Camus could hear his heart pounding in his chest. It wasn't that he was comparing himself to Saga and Aiolos… it was that he couldn't live up to the expectations that he himself had put on him.

At last the older man spoke again. "I am going to give you a command, Aquarius Camus," he said, and the words drew Camus' attention and focus back to him. "At the end of the main path is a large building – you will recognize it by the owl carved above the doors."

Camus ran through the tour that Saga and Aiolos have given him, and then paused. "The…library?"

"Exactly." Shion smiled. "For the next three days, I want you to go to the library and retrieve anything from its shelves that you like, and spend the time that you would normally train your techniques on reading through the material. You will participate in combat training, of course, but give your Cosmo a rest, Camus. Even it can tire out when overworked."

"But…" Camus stopped himself when Shion put his hand back on his shoulder.

"After three days, attempt your Diamond Dust again. I think you shall find yourself back to normal. You must learn to take care of yourself and move at your  _own_  pace, Camus - not your master's, not mine, and not your fellow Saints'. Only yours. Nothing is more important than this." Shion stepped back. "Go on now. You'll want to spend some time there before dinner, I'm certain. Athena's library contains quite the collection."

Camus couldn't hide the spark of interest in his eyes – one of his favorite ways to relax was to enjoy a good book, and he had always been above his peers in terms of academic capability. He had already gone twice over his master's library, taking in the works of authors such as Dumas and Dostoyevsky at a very young age. "Yes, sir," he said, relief flooding through him. Shion wasn't thinking down on him at all, and when put so plainly before him Camus could see the wisdom in his words. "Thank you. Ah…will you be joining us for the meal?"

"I am afraid not," Shion replied with a smile and a shake of his head. "I have business to tend to in Tibet for a few days; I will be leaving Sanctuary under the delegation of Saga and Aiolos while I'm away. Enjoy your three days, Camus, and I look forward to observing your  _true_  Diamond Dust when I return."

The look that lit up Camus' face made Shion even more certain that he had set the youth on the correct path, and thankful that he had interceded in time before Camus inadvertently burned out his own Cosmo. "Yes, sir!" Camus said. Then, under Shion's watchful eye, he turned and hurried from the training grounds, clearly intent on carrying out Shion's "order". The rest, Shion hoped, would truly do Camus good in more ways than one. It had not taken a perceptive eye to see how tense the boy had been since arrived; Shion hoped that this respite would do the child some good.

Shion's expression grew soft as the small form disappeared from view. "Degel, my friend," he murmured, calling to mind a face from so very, very long ago. "Welcome home."

And then Shion was gone, vanishing in the blink of an eye, as if he had never been there at all.


	4. Aquarius: Part Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Many souls have passed through these halls…some of them more than once. They all leave something behind – as will we, when the time is right." - Virgo Shaka

The barracks were quiet; Milo's steady stream of chatter and Aiolia's louder-than-necessary voice were nowhere to be heard. Camus wasn't surprised by this – at this time of day Milo was always nowhere to be found, and this was Aiolia's reserved time in the training arena. Like the rest of them he never missed a session, though Camus suspected this had a lot more to do with trying to impress his older brother than it did with becoming stronger in order to protect Athena.

It was the day after Shion had ordered him into forced respite, and already Camus could admit that the older Saint was correct – he  _had_  been pushing himself beyond his limits. He'd been training twice as often and twice as hard as the others, and with the schedule that he'd forced onto himself he hadn't even had time to notice his exhaustion. Not even twenty-four hours later, and he could  _feel_  the difference.

Camus sat down on one of the couches in the common area, setting the pile of books he'd gathered from the library onto the cushion next to him. He couldn't help but glance around the room as he did so, at the other three sets of couches set up in a square around a low stone table. Each couch could seat three comfortably – four couches, three each. Twelve in all. For a moment he imagined what it might be like to sit here, around this table, his fellow Gold Saints around him. He imagined quiet Shaka and eager Aiolia seated on the couch across, with serious Saga and smiling Aiolos to the right and left. And Milo – Milo would likely be sitting right next to him, probably getting too close into his personal space and not caring in the slightest.

But there would be others, too, and if he stared hard enough he felt like he could  _almost_  get a sense of them there. He knew eventually they'd be found and brought to Sanctuary just as they had – what would they be like? Quiet and soft-spoken like Shaka? Outgoing and cheerful as Milo was? Would they be closer to Saga and Aiolos' in age, or more towards his own? He'd heard that Shion already  _had_  an apprentice, but he never talked about the boy. And he'd heard a rumor that two other Gold Saint candidates had been found, but not where they were from or who they were.

Camus shook his head slightly. There was no point in imagining or speculating – they would be who they were. And regardless of their individual personalities, the most important thing about them would be that they would be Camus' brothers-in-arms, his fellow protectors of their Goddess. A shared destiny and an irrevocable bond. Right now he needed to focus on letting his Cosmo heal, so that he could resume his training and better prepare himself for the day when he would don his Cloth and take up the full mantle of Aquarius.

He reached for the pile next to him and lifted the top book, then paused and looked at the couch across from him.

Shaka's serene, closed-eyed expression gazed back at him, the blonde youth unmoving. When Camus noticed him, he inclined his head slightly in acknowledgement of the other's shift in attention.

"How long have you been there?" Camus asked. He hadn't sensed Shaka's approach. A Saint could only sense the Cosmo of those weaker than him at will, and those of equal strength or stronger if the other allowed it. Not once had Camus ever been able to sense Shaka's Cosmo, as if the Virgo Saint was elevated to an even higher level.

"A time," Shaka replied cryptically. "I apologize if I am disturbing you."

There was nothing disturbing about Shaka's presence – he was the personification of calm and sedation. Camus shook his head. "I didn't know you were here," he said. "Did… _I_  disturb you?" He couldn't think of any reason for Shaka to willingly come out of his room unless something was preventing him from his mediation.

Shaka didn't respond – or at least, he didn't answer the question. Instead he looked around the room, much in the way Camus had done moments earlier. "Can you feel it?"

Camus looked hesitant, not sure of what Shaka meant. "Feel what?" he asked.

The blonde tilted his head back, turning his face up towards the ceiling. "Remnants," he replied softly. "Cosmo of lives long passed. Many souls have passed through these halls…some of them more than once. They all leave something behind – as will we, when the time is right."

"I…don't sense anything," Camus murmured, though he thought briefly back to just moments earlier, that sense of presence that he'd felt. That had only been his imagination though – hadn't it?

Shaka's expression remained unchanged, though he lowered his head towards Camus again. "You will," he said with certainty. "You're closer than the others. If you had not set yourself back, you'd be closer still."

Camus stared at him. "You knew, didn't you?" he asked. "About what I was doing to myself." And yet he couldn't bring himself to be angry with Shaka for not saying anything. That wasn't Shaka's way. The Virgo Saint kept mostly to himself, observing and yet never interfering. He noticed things that none of them did, Camus was certain of it, but he never drew their attention to them. Instead he let  _them_  find their own way.

"Humans are born in perfection, but gain flaws as they grow and change," Shaka replied. "Then they spend the entirety of their lives seeking to regain that which they naturally lost. Do not fault yourself for doing only what instinct drives you to do."

"Instinct," Camus said, wincing. "Instinct nearly burned out my Cosmo."

"Yet you learned from your error and strive now to correct it," Shaka said. "You have found the path – now you must walk it."

The words brought a sense of calm to Camus, as if they were dispelling the last of his concerns over whether or not he would truly be able to reach the Seventh Sense from his current level. It was a gift of Shaka's, Camus realized, the depth of his perception – though a part of Camus had to wonder just what it was that Shaka had to sacrifice in exchange for his observational skills. The young Virgo carried with him a sense of detachment that Camus was unaccustomed to experiencing.

Camus idly traced the raised lettering of his book. "Thank you, Shaka," he murmured. "I'll remember your words."

The sharp report of a door opening and slamming, repeated a second later, made both Camus and Shaka turn towards the front hall. "Milo, wait!" Aiolia's voice called out, but the pounding footsteps indicated the other boy had no such intention; he ran into the common room a moment later, head down and expression concealed by the mass of blue-violet hair streaming around him. He didn't even look towards the couches – he just ran straight through the room and down the hall to the bedrooms, another door slamming a second later.

Aiolia appeared in the doorway to the common room and stopped. He leaned forward, bracing his hands against his knees as he tried to catch his breath, his face flushed with the exertion of trying to keep up with Milo's pace. He opened his mouth to speak, but hadn't quite filled his lungs with enough air – speed of light travel they had  _not_  mastered yet.

"What happened?" Camus asked, staring at Aiolia as Shaka gave his roommate an equally expectant look.

One more gulp, and then Aiolia straightened up. "I don't know," he said, holding his hands up helplessly. "I was on my way back from the arena when I saw Milo up ahead, so I ran to catch up to him. He didn't seem to notice me so I grabbed his shoulder so that he'd look at me. He did, but when he looked at me he went  _really_ pale, and then just took off running. I could barely keep up." He bit his lip. "I…I don't know what I did." The lost look on his face reminded Camus of a Samoyed puppy who had just had his favorite toy taken away; he half expected to see a pair of ears drooping from atop Aiolia's head.

Camus twisted in his seat and turned back to down the darkened hall. It was silent, the heavy stone walls and wooden doors preventing any sound from being heard from within the rooms. What he  _could_  feel was the slightest hint of Milo's Cosmo; just enough to know that the other youth was there, but not nearly enough to get anything more than a touch of distress.

For a moment he toyed with the idea of getting up and going to the room, of trying to talk to Milo and find out what it was that had spooked him so badly. He went as far as setting his book down and placing his hands on the couch cushions to push himself to his feet before he stopped, hesitating. He'd never been good with feelings, either his own or those of others.  _Was_  there anything he could say to Milo that would help him? What if any clumsy attempt he made only ended up making it worse?

Camus let himself settle back. "Don't worry about it," he said to Aiolia. "It was probably something else and had nothing to do with you. Just leave him be – he probably just wants to be alone."

Aiolia didn't look convinced, and Camus couldn't blame him – the words didn't sound very convincing to him, and he was the one who'd  _said_  them. The young Leo Saint didn't push the matter, though, will obviously upset over whatever role he'd had in upsetting Milo. When his shoulders slumped and he nodded, Camus picked his book back up and opened it to the first page, trying to focus on the words that spread out in front of him.

He was all too aware of Shaka's attention on him, but the Virgo Saint seemed to have used up his quota of words for the day; whatever thoughts  _he_  had on the matter, he wasn't sharing them now.

 

****

***.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.***

 

Dinner that evening was an uneventful affair. Normally they would eat as a group, either in the barracks or down at the mess hall with the Bronze and Silver Saints and trainees. Often Aiolos would join them, and occasionally Saga. That night, however, word was sent down from the Temples that neither Saga nor Aiolos would be joining them, and that they were to fend dinner for themselves as they wished. To say that Aiolia was disappointed by this was an understatement, particularly when the message failed to include a reason, but it wasn't the first time it had happened. They were Gold Saints, entrusted with protective the Goddess – they could handle dinner.

The meal consisted of whatever Camus was able to throw together from the minimal food stock they actually kept in the barracks, but it only he and Aiolia ended up eating. Without the elder Saints there Shaka seemed to consider dinner non-mandatory, and forsook the meal entirely, sequestering himself away in his room once more.

As for Milo, he hadn't emerged from the bedroom once since that afternoon, not even when Camus had knocked to tell him that there was food. Since Milo willingly missing a meal was unusual, once he'd finished his own meal he'd bidden Aiolia goodnight and put together a plate of what was left over, carrying it with him when he retired for the night. Despite his earlier hesitation, he told himself he had every right to go into the bedroom – it was  _his_  room, too, after all.

The food, as it turned out, was unneeded. The room was dark and on the cooler side when Camus opened the door, a sign that Milo hadn't bothered to light the lamps or close the window once it had started to get dark. Milo himself lay on his bed, curled up on his side with his face pressed into his pillow and his knees drawn up to his chest. He was fast asleep, and from the looks of it had been so for awhile – he hadn't even changed out of his training clothes, and his armor had been tossed carelessly into a corner of the room, almost as if it had been thrown there.

Camus watched him for a moment, then quietly closed the door behind him and walked over to the beds. He placed the plate on the edge of Milo's nightstand, glancing at the sleeping youth as he did so – and his breath hitched. Although the pillow and Milo's hair hide most of his face from view, from the angle he was at Camus could see his closed eyes, and the barest hint of puffiness that hinted at what Milo had been doing before falling asleep.

Quickly and quietly he straightened up and stepped back, taking care not to do anything that might wake Milo, but as he changed into his nightshirt the image stayed in his mind. He might be mistaken, of course – it was dark, and the moon was in its waning cycle, almost gone, so there wasn't much in the way of moonlight. Or there might be another reason for Milo to have puffy eyes – they didn't  _have_  to be caused by tears.

But just like earlier, when he'd tried to convince himself that there was nothing he could do for Milo, he felt the same hollowness in his thoughts now. And these thoughts continued to plague him through the night, long after he slid into his own bed and right up until he finally drifted off into his own restless sleep.


	5. Aries, Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No one knew when the next Holy War would begin, and every Saint knew that there was no guarantee it would wait for their goddess to reach maturity.

When Camus awoke, the first rays of light streaming in through the lone window, it was to find Milo's bed empty and the plate of food that he'd left picked clean. He found the Saint in question in the common room, lounging on one of the couches and chatting up a storm with Aiolia, who looked nothing if not relieved that Milo had forgiven him for whatever his transgression (however unintentional) might have been.

Camus knew better. It wasn't that Milo had forgiven Aiolia (if there really was anything to forgive), it was that Milo was simply pretending it had never  _happened._  When he stepped into the room the Scorpio Saint looked over and flashed his usual devil-may-care grin, and Camus could see just the barest hint of forced emotion in the gesture. There was a tension within him that hadn't been there before. He hid it well, though – only Camus seemed to notice a real difference. And only Camus saw the way that late that night, long after all training was finished and the stars were bright in the night sky, Milo would curl up around his pillow again and look every inch the child that he was.

The remaining two days of Shion's absence passed by uneventfully, with Camus keeping to his promise to the older man and keeping his training limited to physical combat only. It left him with more bruises than the others, but though his body ached his mind felt clearer than it ever had before. By the end of the three days, there wasn't a doubt in Camus' mind that his Cosmo had healed itself completely. Soon Shion would return, and Camus would be able to show him his Diamond Dust with confidence.

It was the afternoon of the third day, when everyone else was supposed to be doing their technique training, when the bedroom door burst open and Milo came rushing into their shared quarters. "Camus!" Milo exclaimed, half-diving onto his bed in excitement, his eyes sparkling for the first time in two days, "did you hear? Shion's coming back tomorrow!"

"Kyoko," Camus corrected automatically. It was one thing to speak informally with Shion at his request, but Camus couldn't quite shake the respectful habit entirely. He might as well have not spoken, though – Milo didn't seem to hear him, too caught up in his own thoughts. Camus sighed and closed his book. "We knew that, Milo. He told us he was only going to be gone a few days."

"Yes, but!" Milo bounced on the mattress. "Saga didn't tell us that he'd be bringing someone  _with_  him! The rumor's all over Sanctuary, I heard them talking about it in the public hall. Everyone's saying that he's finally bringing his apprentice from Jamir, the kid that Shion  _hand-picked_  to be the next Aries Saint! If Shion picked him himself, he's got to be pretty impressive! How old to you think he is? Older than us? Think he'll live here? That'd kind of suck, he'd have a room all to himself because there's an odd number of us, and –"

" _Milo_." And there it was – that increasingly familiar headache that seemed to come on with surprising frequency during conversations with the Scorpio Saint. "There's no point in guessing about it – if he really is coming, then we'll meet him tomorrow."

Milo looked crestfallen, and almost instantly Camus felt bad – this was the first time he'd seen genuine delight in the other boy's eyes in awhile, not just the forced smile that he'd been wearing. Suddenly the silence that stretched between them seemed impossibly long and deafening, and this time Camus found no solace in it.

Suddenly desperate to fill the voice, he searched for another topic. "You're back early," he said, glancing out the window and taking note of the sun's position. "It's usually later than this before you're back."

The way that Milo averted his eyes slightly at the statement was  _not_  Camus' imagination, he was sure of it. "Oh, yeah… I was feeling, um, kind of tired so I thought I'd just…come back here." He lowered his head, his bangs flopping forward and shadowing his eyes. "If I'm bothering you I can go."

Camus wasn't sure what surprised him more – that Milo would actually admit that he was tired, or that he would offer to leave Camus alone. Neither was a typical Milo response, but then nothing had been particularly typical about Milo these past couple of days.

The French Saint glanced down at the book in his hands, and then at his roommate. Milo was still sitting quietly, staring down at his hands, and Camus could see the tension in his shoulders. Something hadn't been right with the young Scorpio for the past two days, and it bothered him that Camus couldn't figure out what it was.

He'd taken long enough in his thoughts for Milo to begin to get uneasy, and the other boy started to get off of his bed. "It's all right," Camus said abruptly, causing him to pause and look at him. "I'm just reading. If you want to stay, I don't mind."

Milo's surprise showed in his eyes – it was the first time Camus had actually indicated that Milo's presence was anything other than a nuisance to him. They rarely spoke, and the only times they actually shared the room together was when they slept. But now Camus ventured a smile in Milo's direction, and Milo responded with one of his own.

When Aiolia and Shaka returned an hour later, it was to find Camus sitting on his bed with a book in his lap, and Milo stretched out on his own quietly, the two of them sharing the room in companionable silence.

***.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.***

Shion returned the next day to Sanctuary with a young boy at his side, just as the rumors had said he would.

The four younger Saints were already awake and helping themselves to breakfast – the only one of the day's meals that wasn't offered at Sanctuary's public hall – when Saga arrived that morning to collect them. Camus recognized the Gemini Saint's clothing to be of the same higher quality that he'd worn during their own induction ceremony and knew immediately that  _something_  was going on. In the time since their arrival, Saga hadn't been seen outside of his Cloth or training armor.

"The Gold Saints have been summoned to the Audience Chamber," Saga said, skipping any form of greeting entirely. No one flinched; they were used to his short tone already. "Training has been cancelled for the day." His eyes swept over the boys. "Shaka and Camus, the two of you are acceptable – Aiolia, Milo, go change." Shaka and Camus had come to the meal in tunics, trousers and boots, but Aiolia and Milo were in their training gear already. Protests started to raise from both boys, but a sharp look from Saga had them sulking back to their rooms.

Camus and Shaka looked at each other – Camus understanding by now that Shaka simply didn't  _need_  to open his eyes to see, and was finding it easier to read his expressions even without them being open. Shaka was curious, which in and of itself was notable. The blonde boy turned back to Saga. "Has the Kyoko returned with his apprentice?" he asked in his soft, lilting voice that he used so little.

Saga nodded. "He's inducting the new Aries Saint today. The boy will be joining the four of you here and will start participating the combined training as of tomorrow."

"Are we going to be putting him in one of our rooms?" Camus asked curiously. Four other bedrooms stood empty, but would they really be giving the new Saint one all to himself?

"That will be up to the Kyoko," Saga replied. He frowned slightly in the direction of the bedrooms, then muttered under his breath, no doubt displeased by how long it was taking Milo and Aiolia. Camus made a mental note to try and keep the other two from antagonizing the older Saint further that day – Saga on the warpath was not the least bit enjoyable.

Aiolia and Milo returned a few minutes later, both of them looking uncomfortable in their more formal clothing. Both were relieved when Saga gave them a look of approval, and as soon as they were finished with this meals, they followed Saga to the Audience Chamber.

There they found Aiolos waiting for them, also dressed formally, though his trademark bandana was still tied securely around his forehead. "Good, you're here," he said with a nod. "They already are."

"Before us?" Saga asked.

"Well, since he's  _Shion's_  trainee, we're sort of skipping the part where the master brings the student before the Kyoko," Aiolos said with a grin. "Come on. We don't want to keep them waiting any longer."

With Aiolos in the lead the six Gold Saints entered the Audience Chamber. There were guards outside the entrance, as there had been before, but no one else loitered as they made their way down to the long stretch of hall leading up to Shion's seat.

It was impossible to miss the new Aries Saint. Even as Saga and Aiolos led them two stand along the sides of the hall, eyes were drawn to the young boy. The lavender-haired boy was no older than the younger four, though his face was hidden by the way his head was bowed as he knelt before his master.

Shion was clad in his formal robes, obsidian mask in place. He sat there calmly, hands resting on the arms of his high-backed chair. There was a nervous anxiety in the silent air, stemming from what this boy now symbolized – with him, seven of the twelve Gold Saints had been gathered at Sanctuary, with Libra Dohko at Mount Rozan. The clock was ticking down to the return of Athena. The Silver Saints were scouring the world for clues as to where their goddess would be reborn next. The sooner she be found and protected, the more secure their world would be.

No one knew when the next Holy War would begin, and every Saint knew that there was no guarantee it would wait for their goddess to reach maturity. Or even for all of her protectors to do the same.

At last Shion rose to his feet and stepped down from the dais, placing his hand upon his pupil's head. In much the same way he had done for Camus and the others, he stepped back and made his proclamation. "Aries Mu. Rise before me, Gold Saint of Athena. Sanctuary welcomes you." There was no mistaking the pride in his voice.

Slowly, Mu rose to his feet and presented Shion with a graceful bow. Then he turned to face the other Gold Saints, and gave them their first good look of him. From the intelligence in his green eyes to the small dots of dark violet on his brow, the similarities between Mu and Shion were obvious – and it was little wonder that Shion was so proud of his pupil, for the boy stood to inherit so much of what Shion could teach him. His aura wrapped around him in a semblance of tranquility and peace; similar to Shaka's, and yet unique in its own way.

"It is a pleasure to meet you all," Mu said softly, sounding far more mature than his age indicated. "My name is Mu." He paused to give another bow, though it wasn't as deep and formal as the one he had given Shion. "I look forward to training with you and learned what you have to offer."

He looked at each of them, moving down the line, and Camus couldn't help but watch the reactions of the other Saints. A sudden blink from Saga, a startled expression on Aiolos' face mirrored by his brother moments later, and Milo's jaw quickly dropped in disbelief. The only one who made any kind of outward reaction was Shaka, but the other four made Camus wonder…

 _*You are very observant, Aquarius Camus,*_  that same soft voice whispered, but it was not with Camus' ears that he heard it. His attention snapped to Mu in amazement.  _*I think you and I will get along quite well.*_

Mu met Camus' eyes and smiled in acknowledgment, a gentle confirmation that yes, in fact, Camus  _was_  hearing the words in his mind.

He stepped back to stand in front of Shion again, that soft smile unwavering.

Shion placed his hand on the boy's shoulder. "As I'm sure you've all discovered by now," Shion said, "Mu has a high psychic talent, and is skilled in several forms, including telepathy. Never fear – he's well trained and understands boundaries, so there shouldn't –"

"That's so cool!" Milo suddenly burst out, cutting off Shion and startling everyone. He looked at Mu, his expression eager. "So you can read minds and float things and stuff? Can you fly?"

"Of course he can't  _fly_ ," Aiolia said, looking at Mu aghast. "That's not a psychic thing, that's a…a…" He faltered and then looked at his brother for help.

Aiolos tried. "A flying thing?"

Saga suddenly snorted, choking back the uncharacteristic laugh that rose up in his throat as Aiolos shot him a hurt look. "Flying thing?" he repeated. "That's the best response you could come up with?"

"You want to try coming up with something better," Aiolos countered. "I'm still getting used to the idea of having someone speaking  _in my head._ " At once he paused and looked at their newest comrade, adding hastily, "Not that I have a problem with it – I just wasn't expecting it. All of us are a little psychic, but…not like that."

Mu just smiled again and gave a nod. "Thank you," Mu said simply, in a way that made them all wonder how many times the boy had revealed his abilities in the past, only to be met with far less accepting responses.

Shion gave a nod of his own, almost as if he were confirming something for himself. "Escort Mu back to the barracks and assist him in getting settled in," he said.

Saga nodded, taking charge of the situation was Aiolos was still smarting over his less-than-eloquent response and the fact that Saga had called him on it. When the Gemini Saint turned to leave, it was with the clear expectation that the others would follow – and they did.

And so it was that the Aries Saint came to Sanctuary.


	6. Aries: Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He couldn't help but hope that someday he'd find another. Someone that he could relate to in a way that he couldn't relate to his master. A peer. A companion. A friend.

If there'd been any worry that Mu wouldn't be able to adjust to their communal living, any such concern vanished within the week. No one protested the single-room arrangement granted to the newest Saint, the allowance obviously due to his unique psychic talents. As Mu explained to them, he had lived alone with Shion in Jamir for many years now, and was still adjusting to being around more people. It was just as well – Shaka and Aiolia had adapted surprisingly well to their living arrangement, Aiolia proving to be far more mindful of Shaka's need for quiet during meditation than anyone had expected (though Shaka's ability to meditate through  _anything_  might have been a tribute to that), and as for Camus he'd grown accustomed to having Milo around now. To switch at this point would have been awkward, and so it was that Mu quietly claimed the bedroom beside Shaka and Aiolia's for his own.

Having his own room, however, didn't mean that the Tibetan Saint distanced himself from the rest of them. He took Aiolia's endless questions about his powers in stride, answering them as patiently as he could. He accepted and even encouraged Milo's boisterousness, which gave the rest of them a chance to recover from the enthusiastic explosion. He could hold an intelligent conversation with Camus and was even willing to debate on certain topics.

By his third day in the barracks, Mu had managed to fully assimilate himself into the regular routines of his new roommates. It didn't take long for him to pick out their training schedules – or to get a good impression of their personalities. One of the earliest lessons that Shion had impressed upon his young pupil was the importance of observation; the keener Mu honed such skills, the less likely he would be tempted to use his talents for unethical purposes.

So Mu decided to put those skills to the test, following his desire to know and understand his fellow Gold Saints better. Aiolia was the easiest – he was the most open of them, the most carefree and unguarded. The expectation that he would follow in his older brother's footsteps as a Gold Saint had been placed upon his shoulders at a young age, but Aiolia hadn't let himself succumb to the pressure that most would have felt from such a burden. All he was  _really_  interested in, it seemed, was doing his best to not disappoint or embarrass Aiolos. Oh – and making friends. Though on the surface he might have seemed exuberant to the point of being insensitive, after observing Aiolia around their other roommates (and being one himself), Mu had noticed that the other boy was actually very respectful of the needs of others, and went almost out of his way to make sure he didn't disturb them. This was most obviously seen in his interactions with Shaka – despite the fact that their room was shared, not once did Aiolia ever complain about giving Shaka privacy for his meditations, and he took great care not to disturb him during them.

Then there was Camus. The Aquarius Saint was quiet, intelligent and reserved; he preferred to think things through before committing himself to any opinion or task. He did not shy away from conversation, but it had to be one that he could actually engage in – he didn't talk just for the sake of talking. He was also dedicated; Mu saw this clearly when, within hours of his induction into the ranks of the Gold Saints Camus had Shion out in the training arena, showing him his Diamond Dust technique and receiving clearance from the Kyoko to resume his regular training schedule. It had been as if a heavy burden had been lifted from Camus' shoulders, and the result had actually garnered a small smile from the serious-minded youth. One might, at first meet, believe that Camus was as frigid as his ice-based techniques, but Mu suspected that inside him there was a warmth just waiting to be released – if, that is, the right key came along to turn the lock.

_And_ , Mu mused thoughtfully as he emerged from the pantry with a wrapped parcel,  _that key just might already be here_. It didn't take a genius to realize that Milo brought something out in Camus that no one else did. Whether it was simply sitting in the Aquarius Saint's presence quietly (a rare occasion, he could tell, even from only being there a few days now) or managing to engage him in conversation, the tension that seemed to permeate through Camus lessened considerably when Milo was around. And although Milo was friendly to everyone, there was something in the way that he approached Camus that was different. Mu couldn't quite put his finger on what it was, but he could feel it clearly. Neither boy seemed especially aware of it, and yet it was there nonetheless. There was a  _connection_  between them, and if Mu hadn't known for a fact that the two boys had never met before being inducted into the Gold Saints only a few months earlier, he would have been certain that they'd known each other a lifetime.

He unwrapped the parcel, placing a few pieces of balep bread on a plate that he then placed upon a tray, a slight frown of concern touching his face. He had a feeling he knew why Shion had requested that he come to Sanctuary  _now_ , instead of waiting until they knew when and to whom Athena would be born as he had originally planned. When he'd questioned him, his master had cryptically replied that there were others aside from Athena who needed him, and though it had puzzled Mu he hadn't argued the matter.

Mu suspected now that that reason had had to do with Milo. It was almost impossible to tell when Milo and Camus were together, which was often how it was when Mu saw the younger Saint, but on the few occasions he'd caught him alone it had become clear that something was eating away at the dark-haired boy. The day before, while on his way back to the barracks from training, he'd spied Milo sitting atop a half-wall, tossing an uneaten apple back and forth between his hands and staring off into space. Around the others he was all smiles, but that one view had told Mu a very important truth – inside Milo there was pain, and it was growing each day. He didn't know what was causing it, but if something wasn't done it would eat the young Scorpio alive.

He lifted the kettle of water and tea leaves off of the stovetop, carrying it carefully over to countertop and pouring it into a set of teacups that had been among the few possessions he had brought with him from the tower in Jamir. He set the kettle aside once the cups were full, and picked up the tray without spilling a drop, years of practice in serving tea to his master paying off.

He carried the tray out of the kitchen. Camus and Aiolia both had a training session with Saga which was likely to take them into early evening; Milo had left in his own training gear, but he'd gone off in an opposite direction from the others. And at a far, far slower pace as well. Shion would still be overseeing Mu's training personally within Sanctuary, but was giving his apprentice the week off to get settled. That left him to his own devices in the barracks, alone.

Well…not  _quite_  alone.

Tray in hand, he paused not outside of his own door, but the one next to it. It stood open, blocking no one out, and gave Mu a clear view of the two sides of the room that were equal only in size. On one side stood an unmade bed, the covers more on the floor than off of it, one pillow at the foot and the other out of sight from the doorway. Piece of clothing and armor lay scattered about, including one shirt that had somehow ended up looped over the drapery rod that spanned the single window. He wasn't entirely certain how Aiolia had managed that one.

The other half of the room was, in contrast, impeccably maintained. This bed was fully made, the pillows placed in their proper places, the bedding turned up and tucked in. Not a piece of clothing nor armor could be seen outside of the dresser – it looked almost as if no one lived in the room at all.

Except, that is, for the blonde boy perched in a lotus position in the middle of the floor, his hands brought together in front of him and his eyes closed.

He was clad in simple white robes, his hair unbound and hanging loose, and his back was to Mu, facing a Buddhist icon set atop the nightstand, which had been moved away from the bed so that it set apart in the corner. Shaka gave no indication that he was aware of Mu's presence, and for a moment Mu could only stand there and watch him. There was a peace and tranquility about Shaka unlike anything that Mu had ever felt before. He himself was used to meditation, and had done so with Shion on several occasions, but for Shaka… for Shaka, meditation didn't simply appear to be just a way to clear the mind and calm the spirit. For Shaka, it was a state of  _being_.

The barest shift of muscle, a slight ripple of hair; these were the only clues Mu had that Shaka had adjusted his posture to turn slightly towards him. The blonde didn't say a word; that small movement was the only acknowledgement that he gave.

Mu stepped into the room, carrying the tray over and placing it next to Shaka. Then he knelt onto the floor, quietly arranging the tray so that both the plate and one of the cups was within Shaka's reach should the other boy choose to accept the meal. It wasn't until after he had done so that he adjusted his posture again, assuming a similar stance to Shaka's and closing his eyes.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

There was only one person that Mu had ever been able to truly find peace near during meditation before, and that was his master. Before Shion had found him, his psychic powers had little to no control to them; he could neither stop himself from affecting those around him, nor could he keep their thoughts out of his own mind. The influx of other people's mental states, intended to be kept eternally apart and yet all colliding into the small space of his three-year-old mind, had nearly overwhelmed him. Unable to shield himself or those around him, Mu's mind had thrown itself into an instinctive survival response – to keep from being further damaged, it had shut itself down to the point of putting him into a near catatonic state.

He remembered little of that time. According to the doctors at the hospital he'd been held in, he'd been there for just shy of a full month. For Mu it had felt like much, much longer – cut off from the world around him, aware that it existed and yet unable to participate, he had felt himself slowly begin to sink into a dark abyss of despair. Wrapped up in the protective prison of his mind, it had felt as if an eternity were passing by.

And then…light. One day, the last day, all of the voices had stopped. It had felt as if a blanket of incredible warmth had descended upon his mind, blocking out the weakest minds and dampening the strongest. A moment later he opened his eyes, and found himself staring into the gentle violet eyes of the man who would become his master.

Within a week Mu had been discharged from the hospital, his guardianship turned over to Shion, and was whisked away to the remote land of Jamir. There Mu had begun the much needed training of his mind and, once Shion had deemed him healed enough psychically, the even more necessary training of his Cosmo. For most of that time he'd remained in isolation there with only his master as a companion, but periodically Shion would bring him out of Jamir and take him among people for one week, so that he both wouldn't remain cut off from the rest of the world and so that he could practice shielding himself from people up close. It had taken over a year before Mu had been able to stand it for more than a couple of hours at a time, and even now the only person that he had ever been able to relax fully around.

He couldn't help but hope that someday he'd find another. Someone that he could relate to in a way that he couldn't relate to his master. A peer. A companion. A friend.

  
***.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.***  


Aiolia trudged into the common room, rubbing his shoulder with a wince. He was fairly certain that muscles he didn't even know he had were sore. Saga was relentless during training, and he'd pushed both himself and Camus to the edge of their abilities. It didn't matter that they were half his age – all Saga cared about was that they were Saints. He preferred training with his brother – it wasn't that Aiolos went any easier on him, it was just that it was easier for Aiolia to not grumble about it afterwards.

But Aiolos had been busy lately, and so they'd been stuck with Saga. When he and Camus had left the training arena together the Aquarius had immediately headed for the bathhouse, unable to completely hide the limp to his steps. A hot soak sounded good to Aiolia, too, but he'd decided to go back to the barracks and put something in his stomach first.

After hiking up the hill to the barracks, he was starting to really regret that decision.

He headed for his room, makings sure to stay quiet so that he didn't disturb Shaka. Not, he'd come to learn, that there was a whole lot that  _could_  disturb his roommate. Still. He was sharing a room with Shaka, he ought to at least be courteous. That was the first step in getting along with other people – at least, that's what Aiolos had always told him.

Unbuckling the shoulder straps of his chest plate, he reached the room and paused, blinking as he stared inside.

"Huh."

Shaka, oddly, wasn't alone. Next to him, sitting in a similar (and unnatural as far as Aioloa was concerned) position was Mu. Both of them had their backs to him, and neither of them gave any indication that they were aware he was there. They were both completely absorbed in their mediation.

Sitting between them was a tray containing an empty plate and two tea cups, one on either side – the one closest to Mu still full, while Shaka's was empty.

Aiolia watched them for a moment longer, than grinned and shrugged, undoing the rest of his armor as he moved to the dresser to get a change of clothes. Food could wait. He had a bath calling his name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've started to post updates regarding my writing on my Tumblr - if anyone is interested in getting more up-to-date information, or just discussing my stories and fandoms in general, please look me up at: https://akatsuki-celeste.tumblr.com/


	7. Aquarius: Part Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He had to figure out what was happening and find a way to help Milo, because if he didn't then the Milo they knew would be lost.

Camus took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the heated steam rising up off of the surface of the bathwater, and let his head rest lightly against the stone rim of the bathing pool. There was no one else in this particular section of the bathhouse, which was considerably large given that it was used not only by all of the Saints currently stationed at Sanctuary itself, but also all of the trainees and instructors who lived on the grounds as well. When he'd arrived he'd automatically chosen the least occupied room, and although his legs had screamed in protest from having to walk the entire length of the building to reach it, the quiet and peace was more than enough to make up for it.

He wasn't keeping track of the time; eventually he'd have to leave the bath to find something to eat, but right now he intended to stay in for as long as he could and let his muscles rest. Saga had been relentless in his training, though it wasn't without reason – as he had told Camus and Aiolia repeatedly, next to their Cosmo a Saint's greatest weapon was their own body and strength. With the exceptions of Libra and those Saints trained at Andromeda Island, no Saint made use of sort of forged weapon. Training of the body, training of the mind, training of spirit – all were required for those who joined the ranks of Athena's guard.

Camus understood that and agreed with it; he just wished it didn't leave him feeling like his legs were about to fall off.

Eventually the time came for Camus to admit that he'd reached his limit on how long he ought to be in the bath – given the nature of his Cosmo too much heat could prove detrimental to him, and the ache in his muscles had dulled enough that he was certain that a good night's rest would be all he needed to feel one hundred percent again. Water splashed out over the sides of the pool as he turned and climbed out, grabbing the towel he'd set nearby and wrapping it around his waist, leaving his hair bound up for now until he had a chance to dry off. His muscles still ached, but the warm water had done its job, and it no longer hurt to actually walk.

He reached the changing room and began to tug on his clothes, pulling on his leggings and tunic and cinching a sash around his waist. The armor he left in a pile, intending to just keep it. Caught up in his thoughts and his task as he was, he almost missed the sound.

The sound was soft, little more than a hiccup, just barely heard above the running water. He paused, and listened, and it came again, this time louder and sounding not unlike someone trying desperately to not risk being overheard. Camus hesitated, his eyes tracking towards the open door leading to the showers. He knew he should just keep walking, but something held him back. He couldn't see the source of it from his angle, but it was unmistakably coming from the showers.

Puzzled, Camus frowned. His had been the only pile of clothes in the room, and he hadn't heard anyone enter – then again, with the amount of stone between the changing room and the heated pool, it wasn't unlikely that he might have just missed hearing it.

The sound came again, and this time there was no mistaking it; it was clearly the choked sound of someone struggling not to cry. Camus knew that he shouldn't – whoever it was, they were taking great pains to not be found out, and all warriors deserved the chance to keep their pride. Yet even as he thought this his feet were moving, carrying him towards the sound. Each time he told himself he shouldn't, he took another step.

His bare feet made no sound as he walked along the cold stone floor, the shower room muggy with the steam of the water. The showers, like the bathing pool, were communal – but at the moment only one of the showerheads was on, the furthest one, water streaming down over a small, kneeling figure whose back was facing Camus.

Even though Camus couldn't see his face, the wild mane of violet hair that hung down his back was unmistakable.

As was the red tint to the water that pooled around his body.

"Milo!"

The other boy spun around, moving from a crouch to stand in one fluid motion, his eyes wide with clear panic. For a moment the scene froze, the two boys staring at each other, only the sound of the running water and Milo's quick breathing passing between them. For that first instant when their eyes met Camus saw it all – fear, panic, pain, disgust.

And then just as quickly Milo's mask slammed back into place, that same grin that he'd been hiding behind for the past several days spreading across his face. "Camus, hey," he said easily, with only the smallest tremor in his voice. "I didn't know anyone was here. I was just, um, cleaning up a little."

Camus' gaze fell to Milo's hands – although the water had washed away most of the blood, enough of it still clung to his skin to draw Camus' attention to it. As soon as he looked down, Milo thrust his hands behind his back to hide them from view. His cheeks reddened when he realized what he'd done.

"It's nothing," Milo said quickly when Camus looked at him again, not giving him a chance to ask. "I was just, um, training, and I made a mistake and banged myself up a little. It's not as bad as it looks. I just wanted to clean up before I went back up to the barracks."

It was a reasonable explanation. Except that Camus couldn't see a single cut on Milo. Except that it didn't make sense for Milo to be standing in the shower still fully dressed. Except that it didn't explain why Milo's eyes were red, or why some of the water on his face looked suspiciously like tears.

"Milo…"

Milo reached out and twisted to spigot on the post next to him, shutting off the shower. "I'm going to go take a soak," he said, cutting him off. He headed for the exit out to the pool, keeping his back to Camus, his hair shifting to hide his face. "I'll get something to eat when I'm done, so nobody has to wait for me." He disappeared through the doors, leaving Camus standing alone in the middle of the room and sure of only one thing.

Milo was lying.

The blood wasn't his. Camus was sure of that. None of it had been on his clothes, and there'd been no injuries on his hands or arms that would have accounted for it. The blood had come from somewhere else – no, some _one_  else. And if it was something as simple as a mishap in training, there wouldn't be any reason for Milo to hide it.

Camus looked down at the red-tinted water that was slowly swirling its way down the shower drain, an uneasy feeling filling the pit of his stomach. He had  _almost_  started to convince himself that whatever had happened between Milo and Aiolia had been a singular incident, but now he knew better. Whatever was going on with Milo then, it was still happening now – and it was getting worse.

It might only be his intuition, but he couldn't shake the feeling that if he didn't find out the cause of this, then the Milo that he'd grown to know and get used to being around would be replaced by another person entirely. Someone who didn't smile or laugh; someone who didn't fill a room with such a degree of warmth that Camus hadn't thought was even possible.

He didn't want to see that happen. He had to figure out what was happening and find a way to help Milo, because if he didn't then the Milo they knew would be lost.

And that thought frightened Camus more than he was willing to admit.

***.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.***

" _DIAMOND DUST!_ "

With satisfaction, Camus looked at the ice-enclosed stone slab of his former opponent, his fists still tingling from the explosion of ice and Cosmo that he had just released. His Cosmo was fully healed now, and he'd taken great pains to not let it reach the critical levels that it had before. The focus was paying off; he could sense it every time he practiced. His ice was reaching colder temperatures – gradually, yes, but it no longer seemed as if Absolute Zero was an impossible goal. He only needed to be patient, and Camus was good at patience.

Usually.

He lowered his arms to his sides and sighed. As pleased as he was with the result of his training, Camus couldn't feel content over it – not when his thoughts were so firmly focused on something other than his own improvement. It had been two weeks since his encounter with Milo in the bathhouse, and Camus was no closer to figuring out what was happening to his roommate then he had been then.

Milo himself was making it increasingly difficult to gather any clues. It took a couple of days for Camus to be sure, but after the second night of Milo already being asleep by the time Camus retired for the night, and then being gone before Camus awoke the next morning, he knew – Milo was actually  _avoiding_  him.

Not just him, though, and that became clear rather quickly after Aiolia innocently asked at breakfast if anyone had actually spoken to Milo recently. Milo stopping joining them for meals, he avoided using the bathhouse when they did, and he'd even been absent from group training. They'd – well, Aiolia had – tried to press Saga to find out why, but the Gemini Saint had deftly deflected the questions and told them that if they had time to worry about Milo's training, then they weren't spending enough time on their own.

As his roommate, Camus at the very least managed to catch glimpses of Milo in between avoidances – and it had been enough for him to know that his fears seemed to be coming true. Milo's natural tan leaned on the paler side, his face was drawn and worn, and unless Camus was imagining things he seemed to be losing weight, too. The few times that Camus had managed to catch Milo awake in their room and attempted to engage him in conversation, he'd been met with a short response and a cold look that rivaled his own. Eventually Milo stopped answering at all – he either rolled over on his bed and put his back to Camus, or else turned and left the room.

Several times Camus had considered going to Aiolos or Saga with his worries – and once, even Shion – but in the end he'd balked; what if he called their attention to the problem, and they decided that Milo wasn't fit to be the Scorpio Saint after all? None of them had been granted the Gold Cloths officially yet, and although Camus had never heard of it happening with a Gold Saint, he knew that there had been Silver and Bronze trainees in the past that had been refused the Cloth for various circumstances, even if they were strong enough to wear it. Camus could easily imagine how he'd feel if he lost the right to be Aquarius – he didn't want to be responsible for doing that to Milo. Not if there was another way.

"Wow, so that's why it's always wet when I train after you," Camus heard Aiolia's awed tone behind him, and he paused, turning to see his unexpected visitor.

Make that visi _tors_. To Camus' surprise, not only was Aiolia standing behind him, but so were Mu and (the biggest surprise of all) Shaka. A quick glance at the sun's position and Camus realized that this was extra strange, because this was typically the time when Shaka and Mu would be doing their meditations. And  _nothing_  was important enough to take Shaka away from his meditations.

Camus lowered his Cosmo and walked towards the three of them. "What are you doing here?" he asked, tiling his head to one side as he regarded them. They didn't normally intrude on each others' private training time – it was the general rule of thumb around Sanctuary. A Saint only needed to see a technique once to be able to guard against it, and although the Saints of Athena were all comrades, it was a tradition that had held up over the generations. It struck Camus as a little odd, since the Saints would never need to fight  _each other_.

He'd posed the question to Saga once, but the Gemini Saint had only given him a cryptic look and changed the subject.

"Sorry," Aiolia said apologetically. "But we wanted to talk to you – well,  _Mu_  wanted to talk to you – and this was the one place we were sure you'd be."

Camus nodded, and turned his attention to the lilac-haired boy. Mu, he noticed, was standing at the front of the small trio, as though he were the de facto leader. In contrast Shaka was standing slightly behind both of them, not as if he were following them, but as if he was simply there as a support to them both. There, yet still separate.

"What is it?" Camus asked Mu.

Mu reached up and brushed his hair back – a futile effort, for the full strands simply slid right back into place against his cheek when he released them. "Camus," he said, looking at him. "Have you noticed anything strange about Milo lately?"

The straightforward question caught Camus off guard, and he drew in an audible breath before he could stop himself. He stared into Mu's eyes, blue to green, and knew that the other boy already knew the answer to the question.

"I've noticed," Camus said, his voice sounding strained even to his own ears. "And I'm guessing that you all have, too, if you're here."

"Of course we have!" Aiolia exclaimed. "None of us have seen him for more than five minutes at a time – or heard him speak more than five  _words!_ " He bit his lip. "I thought, I don't know, maybe it was just me… Milo never really hung out with Shaka before, and Mu hasn't been with us as long… but then I noticed that Milo wasn't talking to you, either. And…and Milo  _always_  talks to you, Camus. Even if you don't want to talk to anybody!" Almost as soon as the words were out of Aiolia's mouth, the sandy-haired boy flushed as he realized how they'd probably sounded, and he started stammering.

Mu put his hand on Aiolia's shoulder in reassurance, and then turned his focus back to Camus. "We've all noticed the change in Milo," he said softly. "Even I did – though I'll admit, I wasn't sure if what I was noticing was really a  _change_ , and not simply a side of him I hadn't seen before. I was warring with whether or not I should say anything when Aiolia came to speak with Shaka and I, and I decided we should come see you. You  _are_  his roommate, after all. No one is closer to him than you."

Camus' shoulders slumped. "I haven't spoken to him in days," he said heavily. "Aiolia's right – this isn't like Milo at all." Quietly he described to them what he'd seen that first night, when he'd thought Milo had cried himself to sleep, and then later what had happened at the bathhouse. With each word, Mu's expression grew more and more pained, and Aiolia's eyes grew larger and larger. Even Shaka had the faintest downturn to his lips. The knot in Camus' stomach was back by the time he was finished – laid out so plainly like that, none of them could miss seeing the red flag that Milo's behavior had become.

"I don't know what to do," Camus said finally, hating how helpless he sounded. "I just…I don't know what's wrong with him."

Mu looked troubled, biting his lower lip in contemplation. "Before Milo started withdrawing like this," he asked, "was there anything that he avoided talking about?"

"Milo usually talks about anything that he thinks of," Camus said slowly, frowning as he did so. "He'd jump into any conversation no matter what it was about…he always has an opinion…" Then he paused, his eyes widening slightly. "Except training."

"Training?" Mu questioned.

"Not our group training," Camus clarified. "The individual training. I can't remember Milo ever talking about his, not even when the rest of us do."

"Hey, I noticed that, too!" Aiolia exclaimed, his eyes widening. "He doesn't even use this place, does he?"

"He doesn't?" Mu asked.

Aiolia shook his head. "Uh uh," he said. "Ever since we started training here, I've never seen him come here. But he always goes off somewhere for a few hours each day. I just figure he's training somewhere else, although I don't know  _where_. And he doesn't talk about it. Ever."

"Odd," Mu murmured, and Camus understood. Milo came across as the sort of person who would love to talk about how his training had been progressing. In fact, Camus realized, when they'd first moved into the barracks he  _had_. It was only later that he'd started to go silent about it.

"Hey, maybe you can read his mind, Mu?" Aiolia suggested. "Then we'd know exactly what was going on."

Mu's expression shifted into the closest thing to a scowl that Camus had ever seen on the soft-natured boy's face, and Camus shook his head. "Mu doesn't read minds without permission unless it's an emergency, remember, Aiolia?" he reminded the Greek.

Aiolia's brow furrowed. "But isn't  _this_  an emergency?" he asked, and Camus found that he didn't have an answer for that. Aiolia was right.

"I don't have to read his mind in order to sense that something isn't right with him," Mu said softly. "I…I  _could_  do it, if there's no other way to figure it out, but…" His voice trailed off, his expression conflicted.

"Milo is a Gold Saint, as are we," Shaka said, speaking up for the first time. He took a step forward, coming to stand beside Mu and angling his body towards him. "And he is aware of your abilities. If he were to sense you going through his mind, after trying so hard to keep this secret, then it would be a breach of trust that might not be mended."

He angled his face towards Camus and Aiolia now, though he remained at Mu's side. "There is another way."

"How?" Aiolia asked, looking troubled and worried. Camus understood. Neither of them wanted to risk any trust between Mu and Milo, and it was clear that it was the last thing  _Mu_  wanted as well.

"If it seems that the answer lies in Milo's training," Shaka replied, "then find out what his training entails."

They stood there silently, pondering what Shaka had just said, and marveling out how obvious the answer was now that the Virgo Saint had stated it. Camus, however, saw an immediate problem. "None of us know where he does his training," he said. "And following him isn't going to work. He's so intent on avoiding us that he's fully aware of us whenever we're nearby. The best thing to do would be to figure out where he's going and either get there before he does, or wait until he leaves and then go there while he's there." He frowned. "But I don't know how we should figure that out…"

"He trains in the furthest training field, on the outskirts of Sanctuary. Lately Aiolos has been going with him."

All three of the other boys paused and looked at Shaka again.

"How did you find that out?" Aiolia asked after a moment, wondering if Shaka had managed to follow Milo and was just holding out on them. Or maybe Shaka had other, more  _mystical_  ways of figuring things out. Aiolia was convinced his roommate had supernatural powers that the rest of them didn't have, but every time he tried to ask Shaka about it, the other boy just stared at him with his eyes closed for a moment, then returned to his meditations.

"I saw him leave there while I was out on a walk," Shaka replied with a slight shrug of his shoulder.

Aiolia looked disappointed, but decided not to dwell on it. Scratching his head, he looked at Mu and Camus. "Why would he train all the way out there when we've got our own training ground right here?"

Camus was wondering the same thing himself, and bit his lower lip in thought. "I'm going to go," he decided suddenly, earning a surprised look from Aiolia and an unreadable one from Shaka. Mu, however, smiled and gave a nod.

"May I come with you?" Mu asked. "I'm worried, too."

Camus nodded. "Will the two of you stay here and cover for us in case Saga shows up?" he asked Aiolia and Shaka before Aiolia could volunteer – if Aiolia tried to go with them, their cover would be blown before even arriving.

Shaka gave a slight nod, and Camus turned to Mu. "Let me change out of my armor. I'll meet you in ten minutes."

***.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.***

"I didn't realize this area was so far away from the rest of Sanctuary," Camus whispered to Mu as they carefully picked their way along the walls that surrounded the training ground. The walls were in place to protect those outside of the grounds, for the terrain inside was designed to be taxing and occasionally even treacherous.

"It's the smallest of the grounds," Mu whispered back. "Master Shion told me that the furthest grounds are specialized and used for Saints whose techniques need to be trained under special conditions."

"Really?" Camus wondered what a technique had to be like for it to be considered special. "Special how?"

Mu hesitated, and then replied, "Usually if just  _learning_  the technique is dangerous to other people."

The words sent a chill down Camus' spine, and he understood the implication behind Mu's words. He wondered, for a moment, if this was a good idea – and then he'd remembered the way Milo had turned away from him the last time he'd tried to talk to him, and the cold, detached look in his eyes that made even Camus uneasy.

" _No! I won't! I won't do it anymore!_ "

Camus and Mu both jumped as Milo's shout echoed from inside the training ground. Before the Aries Saint could stop him Camus was moving, scrambling up the remaining stairs and through the entrance. He stayed in the doorway, stopping just short of leaving it so that he could see what was happening.

His eyes opened slightly. Milo and Aiolos were there, yes – and Aiolos was kneeling on the ground, bleeding from several points of his body and looking more than a little strained. He was breathing in deep gasps, his shoulders heaving as he struggled with breath. There was something about the placement of the injuries that bothered Camus, but he couldn't quite place or piece it together. But what really caught his attention wasn't Aiolos at all – it was the expression on Milo's face.

He'd never seen the other boy so shaken. Pale, wide-eyed, frightened – Milo was trembling like a leaf as he stared at Aiolos. He had one hand clenched into a fist so tight his knuckles were white. "I don't want to do this anymore!" Milo cried, his tone begging. "Aiolos, please… please, don't make me…"

"Do it, Milo," Aiolos said through clenched teeth, pushing himself up from his knees into a standing position. He staggered once before getting his balance underneath him, and fixed a gaze harder than Camus and Mu had ever seen him wear on the young Scorpio. " _Do it._ "

Milo shook his head once, but unclenched his fist and lifted his hand up slowly. Camus noticed for the first time that one of Milo's fingernails was longer and sharper than the rest, standing out due to the deep red of its color. " _S-s-sixth Star,_ " Milo commanded, voice shaking so much that Camus wasn't even sure the attack would go through.

A beam of needle-thin red light shot from the tip of Milo's fingernail and slammed into Aiolos' body, ripping a pained shout from the Sagittarius Saint as he staggered back and nearly lost his footing again. Somehow he managed to stay upright this time, but it took him several minutes to catch his breath.

Camus felt numb. "What is…" His hushed voice trailed off.

"Scarlet Needle," Mu whispered from next to him, and Camus looked at him. "The Scorpio Saint's signature move – I didn't know Milo was that far along in his training." He took a deep breath. "It consists of fourteen points of attack, outlining the Scorpio constellation on the body of its victim – each new strike causes a massive increase in pain and eventually shuts down the body's senses. It's followed by the Antares – a fifteenth strike." Mu swallowed hard. "It's a deathblow. Nothing hit by Antares can survive."

Camus' mouth went dry, and he looked back at Milo and Aiolos. The older Saint had finally regained himself, and now held up his hand to Milo. "That's enough," Aiolos said, and when Camus looked at him closely he realized that Aiolos' eyes weren't quite focusing. He felt his stomach twist. Shutting down the senses…had Aiolos gone blind with that last strike?

Aiolos was still speaking. "You did well, Milo. That's the furthest we've gotten yet. We'll meet back here in a few days."

Milo didn't respond, simply standing there with his arms hanging at his sides, his head down slightly. His bangs fell over his forehead, hiding his eyes from view. He said nothing in response to Aiolos.

Aiolos closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead slightly, but said nothing more before excusing himself and heading for the entrance. Mu and Camus both pressed themselves up against the wall to try and avoid being seen – it didn't matter if it  _seemed_  like Aiolos' sight had been damaged. Aiolos paused just inside the entry way, and Camus held his breath. Then the older Saint continued on his way, leaving the two them behind - with Milo.

As soon as Aiolos was out of sight, Milo collapsed. He sat down hard on the ground, bringing his knees up to his chest and hugging them, burying his face into his arms. Harsh sobs ripped from the violet-haired boy's throat, the sound only slightly muffled. Camus gripped the corner of the wall he was leaning against. Gone was the cheerful, exuberant boy who often drove Camus to the very ends of his patience. What remained was a crying child very near the point of breaking.

Camus didn't realize that he was walking across the training field until he was more than halfway to Milo, and at that point it was too late to turn back. His footsteps crunched on broken stone, bringing him closer to Milo until he knelt down in front of him. Silently, he placed his hand on the other boy's shoulder.

Milo stiffened at the touch, and then slowly lifted his head to look at Camus with red-rimmed eyes. For a moment they just stared at each other, Milo's very real pain against Camus' quiet sympathy.

Then Milo threw himself into Camus' arms, pressed his face against his chest, and cried until he had no more tears left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone is interested in getting more up-to-date information regarding story updates, or just discussing my stories and the fandoms in general, please loo up at: https://akatsuki-celeste.tumblr.com/


	8. Scorpio: Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "If it had been up to me to select a candidate for the Scorpio Cloth, I don't think I would have chosen Milo." - Sagittarius Aiolos

A cool, damp cloth pressed against Aiolos' closed eyes, and he released the breath that he'd been holding. "Thank you, Saga," he murmured to the man he could not see, yet knew was sitting next to the duvet that Aiolos had been helped onto a few minutes earlier. "I appreciate it."

"No need to thank me," Saga replied, leaving the cloth resting across Aiolos' eyes as he reached for a half-used roll of bandages. They were in Aiolos' personal chambers in JinBaKyuu, the Temple of the Centaur, Saga having assisted the Sagittarius Saint after finding him making his way slowly up the steps between the Zodiac temples. Aiolos had been stripped down to his pants, his training armor and shirt lying in a bloodstained heap in the corner – the likelihood that they would be suitable for use again was slim. At the very least the shirt was a goner – the armor  _might_  be salvageable once the cracks were repaired. "He did a number on you today."

"He's getting stronger," Aiolos replied, wincing as Saga began to dress his wounds. "We managed to get him up to six strikes today, and I think he could have done more, strength-wise. Mentally…" He sighed. "He was cracking after the fifth one. It was the first time he managed to hit me with the full force of it, and he didn't want to do another one."

Saga was silent as he ran another wet cloth over Aiolos' arm, wiping away the dried blood before wrapping the bandage around his bicep. "How long are you going to keep doing this with him?" the Gemini Saint asked. "Even with your strength and Cosmo, repeated hits by the Scarlet Needle are going to leave a lasting effect, particularly if he's getting strong enough to affect your senses. You're lucky I was in my Temple when you came walking up, or you might not have been able to see well enough to make it back here."

"He's not strong enough to render me completely blind, and the rest of my senses are fine," Aiolos said, shaking his head in a brush off of the concern. "And I'm going to keep doing this until he's strong enough to use it on an enemy if he has to." He frowned slightly. "I'm not worried about the physical strain. In that respect he can handle the technique fine. But…"

"He breaks down every time he improves," Saga finished quietly. "It may just be because he sees you as a mentor and friend and dislikes the thought of hurting you…but it could also be that he doesn't have the mental strength to deliver such an attack on  _any_  living being, whether friend or foe. If he can't complete the Scarlet Needle without breaking down, how will he handle Antares?"

Aiolos reached up and removed the cloth from his eyes, giving the ceiling an unfocused stare. "I don't know," he said. "Right now…right now I can't see him having the mental strength to seal away all five senses, let alone deliver a deathblow. And I'm not going to try and train him in it unless I think he  _can_  handle it. I've already spoken to Shion about it. Milo, he's…" Aiolos looked frustrated. "If it had been up to me to select a candidate for the Scorpio Cloth, I don't think I would have chosen Milo."

"Unfortunately it wasn't your choice," Saga replied. "Milo  _is_  the only Scorpio candidate with a Cosmo strong enough to achieve and master the Seventh Sense. That fact cannot be changed. All that we can do now is figure out how to handle it from here. You won't guide him in the Antares?"

"Not if his state of mind doesn't improve," Aiolos replied. He didn't try to hide the frustration in his voice. "The problem is that Milo has no  _example_. His Master knew enough of the technique to begin teaching him the basics, but everyone knows that the last  _true_  master of the Scarlet Needle and the Antares was Scorpio Kardia – and he never trained an apprentice before he died in the18th Century Holy War. Not even Shion knows anything more than theory. All I can do is guide and support Milo; he has to find his own path to his power. And he  _has_  to come to terms with it, and what he can do, if we're to have a Scorpio Saint at full strength." He closed his eyes. "I don't like this, Saga. I feel as if we're training these children to die."

"There has never been a Saint in all of history who has said that this is an easy path to walk down," Saga said, tying off the last bandage on Aiolos' leg. "All we can do is train them to reach he best of their abilities, just as our masters and mentors did for us." He said back in his chair, his voice subdued. "We can only look ahead and keep moving forward. The past cannot be changed.

"Give Milo time. He's still young – he may grow into himself yet. You're being as patient with him as you can afford to be." Saga shook his head. "Athena knows that's probably why the Kyoko chose you over me to help him with his techniques. Milo will find his path, but it doesn't necessarily fall on  _your_  shoulders to help him do it. You can't save the world all by yourself, Sagittarius."

"No…but is it wrong to want to try?" Aiolos went quiet, sharing a stretch of silence with the Gemini Saint. For all that they were undeniably different, being the two eldest of the Gold Saints was a bond that tied the two of them together.

Finally Aiolos spoke, breaking the silence. "Eight Gold Cloths claimed, now. Mine, yours – Aries, Virgo, Aquarius, Scorpio, Leo, Libra. Four remain. Has there been any progress?"

"Some," Saga replied. "While you were with Milo, I met with the Kyoko. He's asked me to leave for Greenland and Brazil today."

Aiolos sat up suddenly, wincing from the movement but otherwise ignoring the pain. "Pisces and Taurus?" Both Cloths had had multiple candidates, but if Shion had specified two for Saga, then it meant something had tipped the scales. "Confirmed, or evaluation?"

"Officially an evaluation," Saga said, "but I suspect the stars have told Shion something that he knows will qualify them. The most plausible answer is that they've both made sudden strides towards the Seventh Sense that the other possibilities haven't. At any rate, I'm supposed to go and meet with them, and if I deem them qualified, bring them to him."

Aiolos looked troubled. "Something must have happened," he said. "I understood moving Milo, Camus and Shaka here, and my brother began his training in Sanctuary. But Shion trained Mu for years in Jamir, isolated, and now he's suddenly chosen to bring him to Sanctuary with no prior warning. Now he's calling in the candidates for Pisces and Taurus." He frowned. "It could be a problem. The boy in Brazil, he's the same age as the others, but the Pisces candidate, he's what… eight? Nine?"

"Eight," Saga confirmed.

"That's a good-sized age gap between him and the others," Aiolos said. "Do you think it will be a problem? We're old enough to be mentors, but even two years can make a difference with children."

Saga shrugged. "Who can say?" he asked. "We won't know until they get here, although knowing the Kyoko he'll plan on having them move into the barracks as well." He moved to stand. "At any rate I'll be gone for a week, so you might want to slow down with Milo's training until I return. And  _lie down_. If any of those wounds open up again and I have to reapply the bandages, I'll be less than pleased."

"And that's a change from your usual state how?" Aiolos gave Saga a good-natured grin, though he did lay back as instructed. He closed his eyes, making it easier. "…Saga?"

"Hm?"

"She's coming, you know. Athena. I think she's going to be here soon…and I'm sure Shion thinks the same. It's probably why he's gathering us all together now. What do you think she'll be like?"

"She'll be a baby, Aiolos, reborn as human."

"But she'll still be Athena." Aiolos' voice started to take on the slightly distant, dreamy quality of someone on the verge of sleep and waking. "I see her sometimes, in my dreams…she's beautiful, and bright, and everything feels at peace when she's around. Does she ever visit you, Saga?"

Saga didn't answer, remaining silent until he noticed the steady rise and fall of the younger teen's chest, the rhythmic breathing of sleep. Slowly Saga made his way towards the door. He paused and turned slightly to look at the sleeping Saint. "…No," he said quietly, his answer falling unheard. "My dreams have no room for such brightness."

* * *

"Here. Drink this."

Milo silently accepted the cup of tea from Mu, his nose wrinkling slightly from the smell as he looked down at it. Tentatively, as if afraid that the tea was somehow going to emerge from the cup and bite him, he brought it to his lips and took a sip. From the expression on his face after it was fairly certain that tea was  _not_  going to be on Milo's list of preferred beverages. To his credit Milo did manage to take a couple more sips before setting the cup back down on the low table that stood in the center of the square of couches.

"Thanks," he said softly, shifting uneasily on the couch. He'd curled himself up as much as he could, tucking his legs beneath him with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders – another one of Mu's insistences. Another time – another situation – and Milo might have teased Mu about his mother hen instincts. Right now he couldn't even look the Aries Saint in the eye. He was too afraid that if he did, all of his secrets would be laid bare for Mu to see.

They were all sitting in the common room – Camus next to Milo on his couch, Shaka and Aiolia across from them, and Mu serving tea from a tray. Only Shaka was really accepting and drinking it – Camus didn't drink tea, and Aiolia had given Mu a 'what are you, crazy?' look. Mu took no offense – he'd only made the tea to keep his hands busy.

"Are you going to be okay, Milo?" Aiolia asked, biting at his lower lip as he tilted his head to one side.

Milo shuddered, an involuntary reaction at the sound of Aiolia's voice. Another person that he couldn't bring himself to look at. How could he, when it was Aiolia's own  _brother_ , whom the Leo Saint worshipped like no other, that Milo had been practicing that technique on? That Milo had been bleeding on a consistent basis? His mouth was dry, as if he'd just swallowed a bowl of sawdust. He remembered the first day that he had actually drawn blood with the Scarlet Needle, the way that Aiolos had grasped as his shoulder, red blood seeping through his fingers. That was been the day that Aiolia had surprised him on the path, and the day that Milo had known he could never,  _ever_  tell his fellow Saints about what he'd done.

A sudden, harsh laugh ripped itself from Milo's throat before he could stop it, breaking the uneasy silence in the room. "You guys must think I'm a real wimp," he whispered, clutching the blanket tighter around his shoulders. "Me, Milo…talks big, but is nothing  _but_  talk. Can't even handle a l-little attack…" His cheeks flushed with embarrassed as his throat tightened, making him choke on his words.  _Don't cry. Do. Not. Cry._

"We don't think that," Mu said softly, and Milo could feel his gentle gaze on him even without lifting his head. "None of us think that, Milo. We're all Saints, just like you. All of the techniques that we learn, we're learning in order to use them against Athena's enemies some day. It isn't…it's not easy for any of us…but none of us can imagine what it must be like to only be able to train against a living opponent."

The uneasiness that settled over the room was tangible, and Milo shrank into himself. In a few soft, eloquent words Mu had just summed up the biggest reason for the sense of isolation that Milo had been plagued with. How could he explain to any of them what he was going through, when none of them had to face what he did? All of their attacks were intended to be lethal, but they could train against inanimate objects. He couldn't. Before he'd come to Sanctuary he'd only trained in martial arts and physical combat, and his master had taught him the theory of the Scarlet Needle. He'd thought he'd known what it would be like. He hadn't even been close.

He swallowed hard, keeping his head bowed. "…It was fine at first," he whispered. "Aiolos wasn't…he wasn't so hurt the first times. But the more I…the more…" His breath hitched in his throat, and he tightly closed his eyes. He didn't want to talk about this. He didn't want to bare his soul to them – yet hadn't he already done that, crying in Camus' arms? Camus, who hadn't said a word after they'd returned to the barracks. Milo couldn't look at him, either. He didn't want to see the pity in his eyes…or worse. He'd feared Camus' reaction to all of this most of all, and had known with dread from the moment he'd encountered the other boy in the bathhouse. He'd known Camus hadn't bought his feeble excuse, and so he'd done everything in his power to keep his distance.

The only thing he hadn't been able to do was change rooms. Despite there being several empty rooms still in the barracks, he couldn't bring himself to leave Camus like that. As much as he'd kept distance between them…he'd  _needed_  Camus all the same. The presence of the other Saint, however limited, had been all that had kept him from fully breaking down.

"I don't want to hurt anyone," he whispered, the words just coming out. "I don't want to  _kill_  anyone."

"Are you a Saint of Athena?"

Shaka's calm words drew all attention to him, including Milo's. He sat there, eyes closed, hands cupped around his tea, his face turned in Milo's direction.

"What?" Milo asked in uncertainty.

"Are you a Saint of Athena?" Shaka repeated, his tone unchanging. "Did you not give your vow that you would do all you could to protect our goddess? To keep her safe from those who would threaten her? To protect mankind at her behest?"

"…Yes," Milo whispered. It was something they had all sworn when they had entered into their training as Saints. Without such a vow they would never have reached this point. A Saint's loyalty to Athena –  _especially_  that of a Gold Saint – had to be absolute.

"Do you think you can do that without taking a life?" The weight of Shaka's closed-eyed gaze had the Scorpio Saint tensing up, gripping the edges of the blanket tightly. He said nothing, almost hoping that Shaka would stop talking – but of course it was a futile hope. "We all know the histories of our forbearers," Shaka continued. "Every two centuries a new Holy War arises, and it is the Saints' duty to protect our goddess in her time of need. To wish for a bloodless war is naïve, and our opponents will not show us mercy if we stay our hands. You may find some day that you will have to raise your hand against an opponent who will stop at nothing to kill you – and you may be the only one standing between and Athena. Will you do what you have to do, Milo? Are you a Saint of Athena?"

Milo closed his eyes, Shaka's words running through his mind. He'd…never thought of it like that. Ever since that first draw of blood, he'd done nothing but think about his training was affecting  _him_. What it meant that  _he_  had the ability to hurt another person like this, how people would view  _him_  once they found out. Wrapped up in his fear of being isolated and rejected by his fellow Saints, he'd lost sight of the reason why he was fighting in the first place.

He'd lost sight of who  _he_  was.

He exhaled slowly, and with the breath he could feel the tension sliding out of him. He opened his eyes slowly, releasing his grip on the blanket, and drew himself up as he looked at Shaka. "I'd stop them," he whispered, sure of the words as soon as he spoke them. "I'd do whatever I had to do to stop my enemy. I  _am_  a Saint of Athena."

The two of them faced each other, Milo holding his breath as the silence stretched out between them, Mu, Aiolia, and Camus' eyes heavy upon them. And then at last Shaka nodded and rose to his feet. "Good," he said softly. He turned to Mu and held his now empty tea cup out to the lavender-haired boy, who took it without question. Without another word Shaka excused himself, Mu's eyes following him out of the room.

Aiolia fidgeted, tapping his fingers against his leg. "Well, um…" His voice trailed off, and he looked at the other three hesitantly.

He and Milo burst out laughing suddenly, the two of them doubling over until all they were forced to wipe away the tears in their eyes. It was the laughter of relief, the laughter of knowing that something hadn't been broken beyond repair, that nothing had really been lost. He could hear in Aiolia's laughter that he held no grudges against Milo for what he'd done. A moment later Mu joined them with a soft chuckling.

And then Milo felt the light touch of cool fingers on his arm, and he felt like maybe he could face what would come next after all.

* * *

Later that night, when they had all wound down from the evening and retired to their respective rooms, Camus lay stretched out on his bed, blankets drawn up to his chin as he slept. He was not a deep sleeper and never had been, always at least partially aware of what was going on around him while he slept. Usually he could perceive whether it was a threat or not, and ignore it if he chose.

This time he opened his eyes and found himself staring at the other bed in the dim darkness of the room, at the silent figure sitting on the edge of his own bed. His eyes locked with Milo's, the other boy's eyes wide in the darkness, a hint of the same expression he'd had earlier at the training arena. Light and laughter had erased much of it, but now…now, in the darkness, Camus could see that there still lingered doubt and uncertainty deep within.

Camus shifted over on his bed and drew back the blankets, holding them up. Milo rose from his bed and crawled into Camus', sliding under the covers and curling up next to the Aquarius Saint. As the blanket settled back down around them both, he closed his eyes.

And the two Saints slept through the night, side by side in silent companionship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the delay on this chapter! The good news is, from here on out the plan is one chapter a week until this version is caught up to Fanfiction.net - and then the unveiling of a brand-new, never-before-released Chapter 13! That's right - Chapter 13 is currently in beta stage, and work on Chapter 14 as already started. And if I start to slip with the updates (as Life is wont to try to make me do) someone please barrage me with virtual hammers and remind me. I know what's in Chapter 13, and I can't wait to share it with everyone who's been waiting so patiently (I'm so sorry) for a new update. 
> 
> If anyone is interested in getting more up-to-date information regarding story updates, or just discussing my stories and the fandoms in general, please loo up at: https://akatsuki-celeste.tumblr.com/


	9. Leo: Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Remember when you enter your Saint training, Aiolia – you have the blood of Saints in your veins, and they are always watching over you." - Sagittarius Aiolos

Aiolia knew what intimidation felt like. Intimidation was what he felt whenever a larger, older trainee decided that the much smaller Greek boy was a fitting target for his fists. Intimidation was what he'd felt the first time he'd been brought into Sanctuary proper and his eyes had focused on the distant form of Athena's Colossus that stood high atop all of Sanctuary. Intimidation was what he'd felt that day he'd first been brought before Kyoko Shion, knowing that he was to be gifted the Cloth of Leo and feeling not at all deserving of it.

So he had no trouble at all recognizing the feeling that was welling up inside of him, planting itself in his stomach and taking root, as he stood at the bottom of the great staircase that led up to the entrance of the Haku You Kyuu – the Temple of Aries, and the starting point of the twelve temples of the Gold Zodiac.

His brother had told him once, at his first visit to Aiolia after receiving the Sagittarius Cloth, that a fully trained Saint was capable of covering great distances in short periods of time. The stronger a Saint's Cosmo, the greater the speed they were capable of reaching. A Gold Saint, Aiolos had said, could travel from one end of the world to the other within minutes, even seconds, if they pushed themselves to their limit.

" _Anywhere at all, big brother?" three-year-old Aiolia asked, looking up at his brother with the wide eyes of a child._

" _Well,_ almost _any part of the world,_ "  _Aiolos said, reaching out to ruffle Aiolia's dark curls._

There was one place, Aiolos had continued, where not even a Gold Saint was allowed to move beyond natural limits. Anyone who wished to travel the path had to climb each stair, move through each temple. There was no circumventing the route.

The Twelve Temples of the Gold Zodiac.

Aiolia bit his lip, then took a deep breath and squared his small shoulders, placing his foot on the first step.  _There's nothing to be intimidated or worried about_ , he told himself.  _You don't care about the Temples themselves, or getting to the top. And you're a Gold Saint, so it's not like you don't have any right to be here_. Even though he hadn't  _officially_  been given the Leo Cloth yet. Even though he still hadn't laid eyes on his own Temple – which, ironically, he would have to pass through but had no interest in actually looking around. No, the Temple he was interested in wasn't the fifth, but rather the ninth.

He forced himself not to count each step as he climbed it, as tempting as it was to distract himself from his uneasiness. If he started, he was sure, the sheer number would eventually become so overwhelming that he'd just give up, sit down on the steps, flare his Cosmo and wait for someone to come get him. And he could  _not_  do that! He was a Gold Saint, just like his brother! Strong Cosmo ran in his family – his lineage was a myriad of Bronze, Silver, and even Gold Cosmo. He recalled another visit from Aiolos when he was younger, from Aiolos' trainee days, when the two brothers had stretched out on the cool stone floor of their childhood home and Aiolos had guided him through their family's history, pointing out the number of ancestors, both direct and distant relations, who had held the privilege of being Saints of Athena. Most people couldn't recall memories that far back, but Aiolia had always been blessed with a strong memory, and the memory came to him without effort.

" _Who are these two people, big brother?" two-year-old Aiolia asked, pointing at two scrawled names on their family tree that had caught his eyes, their names painstakingly printed in flowing calligraphy. It wasn't the names themselves that had attracted the child, but the constellation symbols etched beneath them, and the closeness between their dates of death, and the golden-hued ink they were written in. "Are they imported?"_

_Aiolos followed Aiolia's finger, and smiled. "It's_ important _, Aiolia, not imported. And yes, they are. They were two of the 18_ _th_ _Century Gold Saints, Sagittarius Sisyphus and Leo Regulus. They were great Saints who protected Athena during the last Holy War. They were very strong, and very, very brave. Remember when you enter your Saint training, Aiolia – you have the blood of Saints in your veins, and they are always watching over you."_

Sisyphus and Regulus had been the last Gold Saints born into their family, though there had been plenty of Silver and Bronze since then. Aiolia and Aiolos themselves weren't directly related to either Saint, neither of which had had children of their own before their deaths, but rather could trace their lineage back to the oldest daughter of Leo Ilias, Regulus' father and Sisyphus' brother, who had also been a Gold Saint in his own right. When Aiolia had begun his training, and whenever it became hard, he had always remembered those words of Aiolos' and done his best, not just for his brother's sake but for the Gold Saints of his family that he was sure were watching him, just as Aiolos had said. Sometimes, if he looked  _really hard_ , he even felt as if he could  _see_  them watching.

He'd never told anyone else about that, though. He was pretty sure they'd just laugh and tell him to stop being a child caught up in daydreams.

Whether it was for Aiolos' sake, for the memories of his ancestors, or for Athena herself, Aiolia was determined to grow stronger, to become the best that he could be, to be seen as a great warrior and not the child that he felt like he would always be sometimes. He would face any challenge that was laid out before him.

And his next challenge was these stupid  _stairs_.

Aries first, then Taurus, which he passed through without worry. Mu, he was sure, wouldn't mind, and there was no Taurus Saint yet. He hesitated again outside of Gemini, but he'd heard that Saga was busy preparing for a trip he had to make soon and had been seen out near Cape Sunion, so after a few minutes to gather his courage he'd entered the Temple's  _cella_  and made his way through without hindrance.

Gemini behind him, he scaled the next set of stairs, approached the fourth Temple, and faltered again. Not because of any possibly cranky way-too-serious-for-his-age Saint, but because there was no way to approach the Temple of Cancer and  _not_  get a chill running down your spine. Its official name was Kyo Kai Kyuu, the Temple of the Giant Crab, but among the trainees it had another whispered nickname – the Temple of Death. Death and Afterlife were the territories of Athena's nemesis Hades, but there was one Saint among all of the 88 constellations who possessed such power. They said, in hushed whispers, that the Cancer Saints possessed the power to control the dead, and that the Temple of Cancer held captive the spirits of the Saints' past victims…and, according to some tales, a few of the Cancer Saints themselves.

So it was only natural, Aiolia told himself, to be a little cautious when approaching a possibly haunted Temple.

If any ghosts were hanging around the Temple of Cancer that day, however, they didn't show themselves as Aiolia crept cautiously past the shadowed walls and under the domed ceiling. As he stepped back out into sunlight he let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, and blushed a little for letting superstition get the best of him.

The next Temple was the easiest to get through. There was absolutely nothing foreboding about the Temple of Leo, and Aiolia even let himself Iinger at the entrance a bit to admire the large marble lions that flanked it.  _I wonder what it'd be like to have a lion,_  Aiolia thought wistfully. He couldn't stay around the Temple for  _too_  long, though, because he still had several more stairs to climb, and he had a training session later that afternoon that he really shouldn't miss. He reached up and patted the lion lightly on the nose, then continued on his way.

Virgo, Libra, and Scorpio passed as easily as Aries and Taurus, none of them holding the foreboding presence of either Gemini or Cancer, and the sun was already at its midmorning point by the time Aiolia finished the final staircase and found himself staring at the four columns of the Temple of Sagittarius' entrance. He looked at the Temple, and for a moment it seemed no different than the other – large, daunting, and  _intimidating._

And then he felt a warm, familiar Cosmo brush against his own, and nothing could stop the childlike excitement that pushed him to running up the final small staircases and into the Temple itself.

Sagittarius had no fancy layout, unlike some of the others – it was a simple rectangular structure, with its  _naos_  made up of a central  _cella_  flanked by  _adyton_  on either side. The architecture itself was no less grand, full of marble columns and altars laden with icons and reliquaries, but Aiolia didn't even notice them. He barreled into the temple and made for an alcove that the naked eye would have been hard-pressed to find. It was set up in such a way that if you simply entered the temple you wouldn't see it, the positioning of the interior columns and the wall décor itself providing an optical illusion to shield it from view.

The alcove pressed into the wall about a foot, and to look at it straight on all one would see would be the foot-tall replication of Athena's Colossus set on a filigreed pedestal. Step  _into_  the alcove and turn to the left, however, and it was impossible to miss the opening that went further into the wall. Aiolia was careful here; there was no lighting at this point, but this wasn't his first time here (though it was his first time  _alone_ ), and he knew that after ten paces in the floor would suddenly drop into a spiral staircase leading down into the temple underground itself.

Aiolia kept one hand against the wall as he carefully descended the staircase, feeling his way along the steep steps to prevent himself from missing one and tumbling head over tail. After two turns a light appeared at the end of the spiral, the flickering orange glow of candlelight that seeped in through another archway. He paused at the foot of the stairs, hesitant, unsure of whether or not he ought to announce his presence at this point or if he should just go in.

A chuckle came from within. "You've come this far, little brother," Aiolos called. "Get in here already."

The gentle amusement in Aiolos' voice spurred Aiolia forward and he hurried into the room, almost tripping over his feet in the effort. His eyes were bright as they swept the open front room of the Sagittarius living quarters, the largest of the suite of rooms that belonged to Aiolos and Aiolos alone – and then they widened as they fell upon the shirtless, bandaged form of his older brother stretched out on a duvet against the wall. His mouth went dry. "Brother…!"

"I'm fine, Aiolia," Aiolos said in assurance, pushing himself into a sitting position. "It looks worse than it actually is, I promise."

Aiolia looked at the mass of cloth bandages that were wound around his brother's upper body, coming over one shoulder and then wrapping around his upper torso, reaching from his pectorals to just below his ribs. "But…!"

"Most of the bandages just cover skin," Aiolos said with a shake of his head. "The injuries themselves just happened to be in difficult-to-cover places. And I'm taking the day off from training under Shion's orders, not because I actually feel like I have to."

Since that answered what would have been Aiolia's next question, the younger boy snapped his mouth shut. He didn't look entirely convinced, however, as he tentatively made his way across the room to his brother's side.

He eyed the bandages critically. "Did you do your bandages?" he asked, peering up as Aiolos from beneath thick, wavy bangs.

Aiolos reached out and ruffled Aiolia's hair, earning a blush from the younger boy. "No," he said. "Saga did them up yesterday, and then changed them for me this morning before he left. You don't have to look at me that way, though – I  _can_  do them myself."

Aiolia immediately shook his head. "Uh uh, big brother," he countered. "You  _always_  mess them up when you try to do them yourself, especially the ones that wrap around 'cause you can't see behind you." He grinned up at Aiolos. "That's why you've got  _me_  around."

Aiolos grinned broadly. "Well now, isn't  _someone_  getting cheeky?" he teased. Despite Aiolia being nearly half Aiolos' age there was no doubting their closeness – it wasn't only that Aiolos was Aiolia's idol and teacher, it was also that he was his best friend and his closest family. Their parents were still alive, of course, but Aiolos and later Aiolia had been taken to their masters at young ages for training, and only returned home for a few scant holidays and special occasions. Neither were particularly bothered by this nor were their parents, having been thrilled at both of their children becoming Saints. Their father had worked as a Sanctuary guardsman for much of his younger years before an injury had forced him into an early retirement, and their mother had spent her entire life in the village just outside of Sanctuary's barriers.

The two brothers exchanged near-identical grins, and then Aiolos shifted to sit up fully, swinging his legs off of the duvet so that Aiolia could pull himself up onto the seat next to him. Aiolos laid his hand lightly on his brother's knee, looking at him. This was one of his rare moments when he wasn't wearing his red bandana, and his bangs fell across his forehead unhindered. "Did you come to check on me because I cancelled training today?" he asked softly.

Aiolia nodded, hugging himself a little. "Uh huh," he said. "I…I thought maybe you'd been hurt bad. 'Cause of Milo's training."

Aiolos' eyebrows briefly went up in surprise, and then relaxed. "So Milo finally opened up and spoke of it?" he asked, relief alit in his eyes.

"Um…kind of." Aiolia blushed a little, and then explained to his brother how he, Shaka, and Mu had been worried about how distant Milo had become and gone to Camus, and then how Mu and Camus had gone to the training grounds that Shaka said Milo was at. He stammered the words out, a little worried that Aiolos would get mad at them for prying, but Aiolos didn't interrupt and merely listened, letting him finish.

"So, um, when I heard what Milo had to do," Aiolia finished, his eyes fixed on his hands in his lap, "and then when training was cancelled, I was…was just worried that maybe you were, um, you were hurt. M-Mu said you...you didn't seem to be able to see too well."

Aiolos winced at that. "I'd hope to keep part of that from you," he said, and Aiolia immediately looked at him with wide-eyed alarm. "But I'm  _fine_ ," Aiolos quickly stressed again. "I had some minor blurriness for a bit, but it faded after a couple of hours. My forced rest is only through today – Shion's already cleared me to take up the training lessons again tomorrow." He gave Aiolia's knee a light, affectionate squeeze and grinned. "Saga's leaving Sanctuary for a week, and you'll get me as an instructor the entire time he's gone."

_That_ made Aiolia's eyes light up, and he smiled brightly up at his older brother. "Really?" he asked eagerly. "The whole week?"

"The whole week," Aiolos confirmed. "In addition to combat training I'm also going to be evaluating your technique training as well. Shion wants to make sure none of you are overdoing it, and  _I_  want to see how your Lightning Plasma is coming along."

Aiolia shifted nervously in his seat. He'd been working on the technique since even before he'd found out he was being given the Leo Cloth, having heard about it from the family records of past Leo Saints, but he'd never  _shown_  it to anyone, let alone Aiolos. "I…I'm not that good at it," he confessed. "I can make the electricity but I'm not really good at making it  _go_  anywhere. It mostly just makes a lot of sound and light in my hand and then  _poof!_  goes away." He made an exploding motion with his hands to emphasize his point.

Absently he kicked his heels against the side of the duvet, chewing on his lower lip. "Aiolos?" he asked tentatively. "Um…do you still have to help Milo?"

Aiolos pushed his hand through his hair, mussing it up even more than it already was. "I do," he replied. "Milo's techniques are such that he  _has_  to train against a living opponent, Aiolia, or else he'll never see the results of his training. You and Camus both harness visible elemental power and can train against inanimate objects. Mu has Shion to train with, and Shaka's abilities are geared more towards the mind and spirit, and he has his own methods to enhance them. But Milo…the cores of the Scorpio techniques are physical and internal." Aiolos gave his brother an intent look. "Do you understand why I must continue to take part in his training, Aiolia? Why it must be  _me?_ "

Aiolia bit his lip, fidgeting under the serious gaze of his older brother. "I…I think so," he said reluctantly. "It's 'cause you're a Gold Saint and you can take his attack better even when he starts to get stronger. And Shion can't do it 'cause he's got to train Mu, and Saga can't do it 'cause he'd probably just yell at Milo."

Aiolos snorted as he choked back his laughter. "Close enough," he said warmly, a bit of a chuckle slipping out despite his best efforts.

Then the mirth vanished, replaced by solemnity as he regarded his younger brother. His  _six-year-old_  brother, far too young for the responsibilities that were being heaped upon his shoulders, and yet there was no one else more appropriate. "There's something that I'd like to you do for me, Aiolia. A task I need you to carry out."

Aiolia immediately looked up from his lap with the bright eagerness of a child ready and willing to please.

"I know that Milo's training has been hard on him," Aiolos said, "and I suspect that it will get harder still. Now that you know about it, I'd like you to keep an eye on him for me, at the times when I can't. If he returns from a session particularly stressed or upset, I want you to let me know immediately. He might not open up to you, since you're my brother, but there are a lot of things that you can pick up on just by observing. Can you do this for me, Aiolia? For me, and for your brother Saint?"

Aiolia's assent was instantaneous, his head nodding so fast Aiolos feared for a moment that he'd hurt himself. "I can do it," he said. "I promise I can do it, Aiolos, I won't let you down. I won't disappoint you."

Aiolos smiled, resting his hand lightly on Aiolia's head. "You never have," he said affectionately.

From somewhere above and outside the temple walls a distant chime sounded, counting off the hours that had passed through the day so far. Aiolos cocked his head to one side to listen, and then raised an eyebrow at Aiolia. "I think you have somewhere to be soon, don't you?"

Aiolia blinked, and then gasped, clapping a hand over his mouth as he jumped to his feet. "Training!" he squeaked, realizing that it he didn't start making his way back down the Zodiac  _now_ , he'd never make it to the training arena in time for his allotted solo time. And Shaka was supposed to use it after him and he was  _never_  late.

Aiolos stood up as well, reaching for a folded loose-fitting tunic that sat on a table near the duvet. "I'll walk down with you. It can be a long and boring trip down those stairs alone," he said with a smile, "and I could use some fresh air."

"You won't get in trouble?" Aiolia asked worriedly. After all, Shion had ordered him to rest.

Aiolos winked at him. "Shion only said I couldn't  _train_  today," he said. "Not that I couldn't watch  _you_  train."

The two brothers exchanged conspiratorial grins, and then headed out of the Sagittarius Temple together.


	10. Gemini: Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "One day…one day, I swear it, you'll be able to walk in the sun, and you'll be able to do it at my side." - Gemini Saga

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SPOILER WARNING: My preferred headcanon for the Saint Seiya universe uses Lost Canvas for the 18th Century backstory instead of Next Dimension, which I've dropped bits and hints about in earlier chapters. This chapter has a lot more than just hints to it, and as a result there are certain facts mentioned that could be taken as spoilers. Please keep this in mind as you read.
> 
> Also, those of you who have read this previously on FF.net may notice (or may not, they're not huge) a few changes in the initial scene between Saga and Kanon. This is to accommodate details in the soon-to-be-released Chapter 13. I am also updated the FF.net version to match these changes as well. 
> 
> A thousand apologies for this chapter not going up last weekend - Life was something of a... not good thing. We'll be resuming my regularly planned schedule as of now. Thank you so much for the continued kudos and reviews! You're the ones that are keeping me going on this drive right now, I swear - I've already started Chapter 14 and I'm so excited for it.

On the far edges of Sanctuary, just before the spiritual barrier that concealed Athena's holy city from the outside world, Saga stood at the edge of a cliff, staring distantly down the mountainside. From his vantage point he could see for miles, to the village that sat at the base of the mountains, the forest that lay beyond it, and even further to the faint lights of the modern world.

Fallen marble columns and the crumbling remnants of abandoned buildings dotted the plateau around him, the air silent save for the occasional call of a bird of prey from somewhere high above. Once this area had been has populated as Sanctuary proper, but it had been damaged in some long distant war and fallen to the wayside as more important and necessary areas had been deemed higher priorities for repair. And with the diminishing population of Sanctuary with each passing generation, there had simply been no need for it to be repaired in times of peace. Now it stood here, silent and abandoned; no one had any reason to come here, and so no one did.

Which was, Saga supposed, precisely why he had chosen this place. Here, with a ninety-nine percent certainty that he would not be disturbed, it was the only place where secrets could be shared without fear of being revealed. It was a place where one forced to live in shadows could, temporarily, step out into the light.

"So. The great Saint of Gemini finally comes down from his Temple up high to grace the less fortunate with his presence. You're late, Saga."

"Last I checked it was impossible to be late if there was no time set in the first place." Saga turned to face the new arrival.

It was as if he had turned to find that a mirror had taken up behind him. The violet eyes that glared at him could have been his own; the curve of cheekbones, angle of jaw, and classical slant of nose identical. They were the same height and boasted the same muscular frame born of years of careful training. Aside from their clothing, the only real difference lay in their hair; his double boasted a mane of hair several shades lighter than his own, more blue than indigo.

His double. His shadow.

His twin.

"Hello, Kanon," Saga said quietly.

Kanon's glare turned into a scowl, and he tossed his hair over one shoulder with an angry shrug. "Don't 'hello, Kanon' me," he accused. "You said you'd be here  _yesterday_. Do you know how long I waited for you before I finally gave up? You didn't even have the courtesy to send a message down to tell me you weren't coming."

Saga sighed, shaking his head. "You know I couldn't do that," he said quietly. "There's rarely a moment when my actions aren't being closely monitored, Kanon. Even sending a messenger bird would be a risk, because there would undoubtedly be some curious eye wondering just who I was contacting."

"You're the Gemini Saint," Kanon said with a growl. "It's no one's business who you send messages to." He walked over to the cliffs edge, body anxious with restless aggravation, and stared out at the deceptively calm water. "When you told me that I couldn't stay in the Temple anymore, I didn't think you meant we'd have no contact with each other. I didn't think it'd mean that I'd be subjected to  _your_  whims on when we saw each other."

Saga tried to curb his impatience – Kanon had always had the shorter temper, and with it a tendency towards petulance when something didn't go the way he wanted. And an argument was  _not_  what he had wanted when he'd come here. "I told you before, Kanon – now that the other Gold Saints are being gathered, it's too much of a risk for you to be up on the Zodiac hill. When it was just Aiolos and myself you could come and go with relative ease, but it's not so simple now. Soon the Aries Temple will have its guardian, and my Temple will no longer be the gateway. I won't have control over who comes and goes, and Aries Mu is a talented psychic – he will  _know_  that you aren't me."

Anger and frustration tightened Kanon's shoulders, his fists clenching tightly at his sides. "I hate this," he hissed. "I  _hate_  this. I hate having to hide. I hate having to sneak around. It doesn't even feel like I have my own  _name_ , Saga; any time someone sees me, they always think I'm  _you._  The Temple is the  _one_  place where I feel like I have some kind of identity, where I can be Kanon,  _your brother_ , and now you're telling me I can't even have  _that?_ "

"You know why it has to be this way –"

" _Of course I know!_ " Kanon spun to face him, eyes bright with frustration. "I'm not  _stupid_ , Saga – or have you forgotten that I was  _there_? That I was beside you, kneeling before it, holding my breath, waiting to see which one of us the Gemini Cloth would choose? That I was there the day that Shion explained to us what it meant when twins were born underneath the Gemini stars?"

No, Saga hadn't forgotten. That day had been both the best and the worst of his life, the moment when all of his expectations had been turned on their head. Until that day there had been only two things that the nine-year-old Saga had believed in – that he would spend the rest of his life in the service of Athena, and that he would do so with Kanon at his side. They were identical, after all. There was nothing he could do that Kanon could not; Saga couldn't have asked for a better pillar of support than his twin, and he knew that his brother felt the same about him.

But that identical power, that unfailing and understanding support, came with a heavy price. For only one could be the Gemini Saint, chosen by the Gemini Cloth. And the other, the one not chosen, could never be more than a nameless shadow. Hidden from the world, from Sanctuary, from their comrades – all because two people were cursed to share one Cosmo.

Saga met Kanon's eyes without a word, because his questions were ones that had been answered long ago. The sudden burst of anger in the younger twin faded as quickly as it had appeared, and he turned away once more, staring out blankly at the ocean. "You don't understand what it's like, Saga," Kanon said quietly. "You  _can't_. You can go anywhere, do anything. You don't have to constantly keep your Cosmo under lock and key, you don't have to worry about slipping up. It's only when I'm at your side, Saga, that I can be  _free_. And now you're telling me I have to give that up? That I can't be with you?"

Kanon lowered his head and closed his eyes, only to open them a moment later when his twin stepped up behind him, wrapping his arms around his shoulders and embracing him tight.

"It won't be forever, Kanon," Saga said quietly. "One day…one day, I  _swear it_ , you'll be able to walk in the sun, and you'll be able to do it at my side. I promise. Just…give me time." He rested his forehead against Kanon's shoulder. "Give me time."

From his twin he received no reply; just the slightest shifting in his arms as Kanon leaned back against him, and then the feel of his grip as he brought his hand up to Saga's forearm. In silence they stood there, the twins of Gemini, upon that cliff with nothing but the crashing waves to disrupt the tranquility; a deceptive peace that they both clung to like a lifeline, as they held onto each other.

Time was a fleeting thing.

* * *

Hands clasped against his forehead, elbows resting on the oak tabletop strewn with tomes, scrolls, and etchings, Shion closed his eyes and released a heavy sigh. He could feel the great weight upon his shoulders, despite the fact that his golden helmet sat on the mahogany chair near the wall, the great black robes draped across the back of it. Here, on Star Hill, was the one place that he could cast aside the symbols of his power and even for just the briefest moment feel like  _Shion_  again. Shion, son of Jamir, apprentice of Hakurei. Shion, Cloth Repairer, Saint of Athena. Shion, survivor of the Holy War.

He'd held several titles and appellations over the long years of his life, and none had ever made him feel as alone as that of Kyoko.

Some days were easier than others. Some days he could wake up in the morning and don his robes, exit his chamber and stand atop the cliffs to stare out over the whole of Sanctuary. Those mornings, when the skies were clear and the sun reflected off of the sculpted marble buildings below, when he could see the guards, Saints, and trainees moving through the pathways below – those were easier than others. It was all too easy to remember a time when Sanctuary had been nearly devoid of life, those earliest days following the end of the last Holy War. There had been moments, far more than he liked to think about, when the dream of returning Sanctuary to its former glory had seemed nigh impossible. If it hadn't been for Teneo's constant presence and support at his side, Shion suspected that he would have fallen to despair in short order.

Yet he had forgotten that this had not been the first Holy War Sanctuary had seen, and she rebounded and grew from it just as she had from all the others. Over the months immediately following, those of Athena's army who still possessed enough Cosmo to make the journey had, like Teneo, gradually made their way back to Sanctuary. Those who were unable to return instead sent word with those who could, and with each response Shion felt the heaviness gradually ease. The Saints of Athena had survived, the Cloths could be repaired, and the road would be paved for the next generation.

Even the Temples of the Zodiac were not left standing empty. Despite Athena's resurrection still being centuries out, the Gold Cloths continued to seek out and choose their bearers, though there had never been all twelve at once. Aries, of course, had remained with him. Teneo had achieved his dream of donning the Taurus Cloth, and Capricorn had seen two new bearers, though neither of them had ever possessed the strength of El Cid's Cosmo nor his ability to master the Excalibur. Even Dohko had attempted to train a handful of Saints in hopes of finding a successor, but had ultimately met with no luck. Then there were the other Cloths – Gemini, Cancer, Virgo, Scorpio, Aquarius – who had remained dormant, showing not the slightest bit of interest, as if they were waiting patiently for that one soul to return to them.

Or, in one very special, specific and heartbreaking case,  _two_.

Shion pushed back his chair and stood, his unbound hair tumbling down his back and swaying like a cloak as he walked across the room to the tower's balcony, pushing open the doors and stepping out to the railing. A sea of clouds greeted him, waves of moonlit cotton stretching out as far as the eye could see. Unlike the view from his own chamber, Star Hill was not meant to look down upon the ground, but rather to give an unfettered view to the heavens above. He tilted his head back, staring up at the glittering lights among inky black, seeking out not his constellation, but one just as familiar.

He closed his eyes and focused, channeling his Cosmo to elevate his psychic ability as he tapped into the strongest and deepest of his mental bonds. Two centuries of time had only served to strengthen it further, as like coal being turned to diamond – and it helped that this was a person whom he knew not only in mind and body, but spirit and heart as well.

The connection took; he took a moment to gather his thoughts as he prepared to announce his presence.

" _Two hundred and some years, Shion, and I don't think you've ever worn your worries as openly as you are now_."

The warm, familiar voice brought a smile to Shion's face despite his anxiety, though he did feel a touch of guilt that he'd apparently opened the connection so strongly that he hadn't even needed to let Dohko know he was there. Normally he was much more subtle. " _Forgive me for the unexpected call,_ " Shion apologized. " _I didn't interrupt you, did I?"_

" _And what would you have interrupted me in – pondering whether or not the water flows faster today than it did yesterday?_ " Dohko's chuckle echoed in Shion's mind, and the Jamiran felt some of the tension ease out of his shoulders at the sound of it. Regardless of what his physical body might appear like now, at heart Dohko would always be eighteen years old with a tiger's spirit.

" _Although I am curious,"_  Dohko continued, " _as to why you would be contacting me at this hour and with such a degree of worry, since it wasn't all that long ago that we saw each other in person._ "

Shion sighed, resting his hands lightly on the balcony rail and flexing his grip lightly. " _I have been thinking,_ " he replied, " _about the succession._ "

There was a muted pause where, if Shion had not known better, he might have thought Dohko had cut the connection between their minds. He was cautious, guarded, when he did respond. " _I see. And…have you made your decision yet, Shion?"_

" _No._ " Shion sighed heavily. " _I am torn, Dohko. They are both near-equal in caliber; where one is lacking, the other exceeds. Aiolos has the more open personality; Saga, the greater power. Both are essential to the position. I cannot even weigh one's experience over the other; they began their training within months of each other, and were confirmed by their Cloths on the same day."_

" _Have you spoken to either of them about it? Have you asked_ their _opinions? Perhaps one might be more willing to step back."_

" _I don't think it's going to be as simple as that."_ Shion closed his eyes, holding onto their connection as if it were a lifeline. " _Do you remember what I spoke with you about, shortly after Saga was first chosen by the Gemini Cloth?"_

" _I do,"_  Dohko replied, subdued. It had been a conversation that had left them with dozens more questions, and not a single answer. Even now, ten years later, though questions still remained unanswered.

" _I am even more certain of it now than I was then,_ " Shion continued. " _I…did not know Aspros or Defteros well, Dohko. By the time I became the Aries Saint, Aspros had already died and Defteros had already taken the Gemini Cloth and gone into seclusion on Kanon Island. My only encounter with either of them was during the final battle within the Lost Canvas. But I saw them enough to be certain, and with Sage's written accounts…I'm sure of it. It's no coincidence that the soul of Gemini has once more been split. Saga and Kanon are Aspros and Defteros reborn._ "

" _But why?_ " Dohko inquired, bringing up the same point that he had the first time, when Shion had first described the Gemini twins to him and given voice to his theory. " _Aspros and Defteros' souls became one during that battle, didn't they? That should have been a defining moment, carried over into_ this _life. Why would the soul be born apart_ again? _"_

" _I don't know. If I did, it would make all of this much easier."_  Shion felt helpless at the admission, but it was the truth – no one, not even the Kyokos of the past, truly understood the rhyme or reason behind of the reincarnation cycle of Athena's Saints. Some souls were never reborn; others would be, but they would be scattered, with several generations between them. Only the soul of Pegasus was ever reborn again and again into each generation, Athena's faithful guardian forever at her side.

" _I've done everything that I can for them_ ," Shion continued. " _After Saga was separated, I explained to them_ why _Kanon had to remain hidden. I didn't restrict Kanon's training, so that they could continue to grow together and be fully aware of each others' ability. I even allowed Kanon to live with Saga at the Gemini Temple despite not being a Saint himself; at least until the other Gold Saints began to gather. I've done everything I can to correct the wounds of the past, Dohko…and yet I still cannot shake this uneasiness that the past is set to repeat itself."_

" _It's the final test you're worried about, isn't it?"_  Dohko inquired. " _The one that Aspros failed. You fear that Saga will as well._ "

Shion shivered. " _Yes,_ " he whispered. " _I do. I've tried to find an alternative, but there is none. The final test is the last barrier, the last test of character, and it has never once been altered. It's almost as if my predecessors never imagined that a Saint who would reach the test would ever_ fail _it – and yet Aspros did."_ He shook his head. " _And it doesn't matter which of them I choose in the end. The outcome will be the same. One or the other, I must test them against each other, and I risk breaking Saga either way._ "

" _Shion_." Dohko's voice was gentle and soothing, a trait that he had picked up over his decades in the Five Peaks. " _I understand your worries, but just because they were born as twins once more doesn't mean that the same fate will befall them. Aspros' jealousy of his brother was influenced by an outside source. Saga is free of that influence and manipulation. Remember what you told me, what your theory was about how the Gemini Cloth was able to choose one over the other, even though they share the same soul, the same Cosmo? You said that you believed it was because Kanon was meant to be Saga's anchor. You still believe that, don't you?_ "

Shion drew in a slow and steadying breath, his eyes focusing on the faint stars of Libra, and smiled despite his anxiety at the way they seemed just a bit brighter than normal, as if Dohko had decided that if he couldn't be there in person his guardian stars at least could be.

" _Shion?_ "

" _Yes,_ " Shion admitted. " _I do still believe that. Saga is at his calmest, his most peaceful, when Kanon is near. Having to remove Kanon from the Gemini Temple for this transition period is regrettable, but Mu is too perceptive, and it's too soon for Sanctuary to know of him. If it became known that another child possessed the same strength of Cosmo as Saga, only this one lacks the protection of a Saint Cloth…"_

" _You can't protect them forever, Shion,"_ Dohko cautioned. " _Be careful. If Kanon_ is _the anchor for Saga's soul then they need to be near each other. Occasionally I can sense their Cosmo even from here; they're strong and getting stronger, but they're also teenagers. Remember when_ we _were their age?_ "

Shion winced. " _I remember._ " They had not been his…wisest years. He sighed. " _Perhaps I_ am _being too overprotective, and letting fears born of the past impact my perception of the future… but I still feel a sense of uneasiness. As if there's something lurking just beneath the surface, something I don't know about and cannot stop."_

" _You can only do as much as you can, Shion_ ," Dohko said with great practicality. " _Be vigilant, but do not let your caution cause you to override your reason. You must allow them to make their own choices, both the good and the bad. You can guide them, but you cannot_ live _for them."_

" _Why am_ I _the Kyoko again?_ " Shion asked wryly.

Dohko chuckled. " _Because no matter how many times you doubt yourself,_ wo de neicun _, you are the only one who could have revived Sanctuary to this point._ "

A feeling of warmth spread through Shion at Dohko's words; no matter how many times he heard them, it still set him at ease that after two centuries Dohko still believed in Shion's ability. It didn't solve the problem of what to do about the succession or the final test, but it allowed him to let go of his anxiety and his fear. There was still time, and Dohko was right; Saga and Kanon might be Aspros and Defteros reborn, but they were not the same. The soul was merely the blueprint; it was life's experiences that shaped the person.

" _Thank you, my friend_ ," Shion murmured. " _I'm thankful you're here._ "

" _As am I with you, Shion. As am I._ "


	11. Pisces: Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The youth gasped softly and withdrew, submitting the Saga's strength – yet from the fire still lighting his eyes the Gemini Saint knew that this was no surrender.

_Greenland_

The first thing that Saga noticed upon arriving at the Greenland training grounds was how  _different_  they were from the Sanctuary that he was so accustomed to. Located along the ice-free southern coast, the training grounds consisted of a variety of low-slung wood-and-stone buildings, sturdily built to keep the chill in the air at bay, with none of the ostentatious marble workings of its Sanctuary parent. Its only nod to its heritage was the training coliseum that stood in the center, far smaller than Sanctuary's own and out of place among the Danish everything else. And as if to top off the surrealism of the moment, as Saga strode through the main gates the only language he heard was Danish – a language which he, himself, was not particularly fluent in.

Well, that  _was_  the only language he'd heard – until several Saints and trainees caught sight of the Gold Cloth of Gemini and fell silent in shock and awe. The presence of a Gold Saint had a tendency to do that; if it wasn't the strength of their Cosmo, then it was the sheer status symbol that the golden cloth stood for. It was also highly likely that no one at this particular training ground had ever laid eyes on a Gold Saint before.

This had the potential to be entertaining, but unfortunately Saga had his orders from Shion, and he still had to go to Brazil after this. The sooner he could evaluate the Pisces candidate, the sooner he could return to Sanctuary.

His eyes fell on one of the trainees. "Excuse me," he said, slipping smoothly into Greek, the common language of the Saints. "I am looking for the Master of these grounds. Where might I find him?"

The youth stumbled over words, speaking in halting, accent-thick Greek in response. "Th-the central course," he said, pointing towards the coliseum. " _Lærer_ Klaus."

Saga nodded, and headed for the coliseum without a second glance. He heard the whispers all around him and wished that he knew enough of the native languages to understand what was being said. His language repertoire was nothing to laugh at, but Danish and Greenlandic were simply two languages that he had never felt the need to study.  _What's that saying about hindsight being twenty-twenty?_  he thought to himself with a touch of dry humor.

As he passed through the archway leading into the arena, he heard the sounds of fighting coming from within. A training match, then – unsurprising given the number of students the Greenland facility boasted. Trainees from all across Northern Europe came to Greenland to train in the varying techniques that the Saints who dwelled here were masters of. Klaus himself had once been a Silver Saint, though his Cloth had long since been passed on to a younger bearer, leaving the former Saint to dedicate himself to teaching. He was one of the oldest of the living Saints, and well honored among the younger generation.

Saga stood in the entrance to the arena, watching the two young Saints battle it out. There was a clear difference in age, he could see immediately – one was decidedly smaller than his opponent, both in height and in stature. He moved lithely around the arena, ducking and dodging more than striking out, whereas the other relied greatly on strength and power. The smaller of the two, Saga realized, had the clear advantage – though he focused primarily on evasion, the moments when he closed in to strike were filled with precision, accuracy, and a surprising amount of strength.

" _Velkommen_ ,  _Herre_  Gemini. Forgive me for not being present to greet you upon your arrival."

Saga turned to the right to find Klaus standing next to him, the elderly man having slipped up while Saga was preoccupied with the fight. Saga immediately shifted his focus to the former Saint and gave him a deep bow.

"No forgiveness needed,  _Lærer_  Klaus," Saga said promptly, "and please, call me Saga. We all serve Athena; there's no need for formalities."

Klaus smiled, his eyes twinkling in a rather jovial manner. The teacher of Saints had a reputation for being firm yet kind, and also one of the highest success rates when it came to trainees actually obtaining and subsequently mastering their Cloths. It was little surprise, Saga mused, that one of the Gold Saints would have flourished under his watch. " _Jeg er beæret,_ " he said. "So. In the spirit of passing formalities let us skip to the main purpose. You are here to collect our young Saint,  _ja?_ "

"If he meets the requirements," Saga replied calmly. "The Gold Cloth will make the final decision, after all."

Klaus chuckled and waved off the words. " _Ja, ja_ ," he said, "but that is simply another one of those formalities. When you meet the boy there will be no question. Did you see any of the match just now?" He nodded towards the arena –it stood empty now, the two opponents having already departed.

"Bits of it when I arrived," Saga replied, "though I failed to catch the ending."

"And what are your thoughts, based upon what you saw?" Klaus wore a rather enigmatic, almost mischievious smile. If he'd been a few decades younger Saga might have dared to call it impish.

"I saw two Saints of equal skill but obvious differences in technique facing off against one another," Saga replied. "The larger of the two had strength and mass on his side, well-built for defense. The smaller showed agility and swiftness, excellent for dodging strikes and countering with his own. The fight could have gone to either."

"All is true," Klaus said with a nod. "But the fight was not as equal as it may have appeared. You see –"

"  _Lærer_ _Klaus!_ "

Klaus caught himself in midsentance, both of them turning to see one of the trainees running up, still in his practice armor. He skidded to a stop in front of him, immediately bending over to catch his breath. " _Lærer_ Klaus... _Der er en kamp... Ruben... hånede... ramte ham..."_

Klaus cursed in a manner more appropriate for a drunkard than a teacher. "How many times have I told..." He started off in the direction that the trainee had come from, and Saga – for lack of any other action – followed behind.

"What is going on?" Saga asked with a frown.

"Boys," was Klaus' aggravated reply. Saga raised an eyebrow at that, but didn't slow his pace as he followed Klaus out of the arena.

The explanation for Klaus' response was obvious the moment they left the massive structure. There, on the bricked street that led towards the dormitories, stood a group of nearly a dozen trainees, mostly male with one or two masked females, all of them forming a circle around and looking inwardly. Although Saga couldn't see past them, it only took a few overheard words for him to realize what he was hearing.

" _Hur vågar du rör mig, jävel! Jag borde bryta din hand och båda armarna! Ingen berör mig om jag säger så! Du är inte Saint - du är en värdelös, patetisk hund!"_  The fury and the anger in the words were clear – as was the insults that Saga could make out in the perfectly enunciated Swedish.

"Move aside!" Klaus ordered. "Move aside!" He forced his way through the crowd, stalking his way in to the center. The other Saints and trainees backed away rapidly in time to give Saga a perfect view as Klaus grabbed the backs of the armor of two youths, yanking them apart from each other and holding them in place with strength alone.

"What do the two of you think you are doing?" Klaus demanded furiously. "Fighting outside of the arena – Saints do not fight Saints, save in tournament or trial! You shame and appall me, the both of you!"

"He attacked me!" the larger of the two accused, glaring at his opponent. Already his eye was beginning to swell, and five long welts stood out against his skin where it appeared fingernails had gouged and dragged along his shoulder. From the way he had holding his side, too, there was likely a cracked or bruised rib involved. Saga was unperturbed; such injuries weren't uncommon in Saint fights. There was a reason they were closely regulated.

"I did not!" came the furious reply, the tenor voice matching the one that had delivered the torrent of Swedish moments earlier. "He said that our fight was invalid, that I wasn't a boy and should wear a mask like the female Saints! He said that if I wanted the fight accepted then I had to prove that I was male, and then he grabbed at me!"

"He's lying!" the first boy exclaimed. "I didn't touch him! Look, look what he did to me!"

" _Enough_ ," Klaus said firmly, glaring down at them both. "I care not about the reasons. I have told you both, time and again, that there will be  _no_  fighting." He released both boys. "Joeri, Pelle – assist Ruben to the infirmary and have his injuries tended to. The rest of you, I am  _certain_  you all have other things that are far more important than standing about and staring with your mouths open like minnows'! Go, on with you!"

The crowd began to disperse with more than a bit of reluctance – several people had noticed Saga's presence but appeared to be more concerned about Klaus' wrath than about sating their own curiosity and awe regarding a Gold Saint. Klaus clapped his hand suddenly on the shoulder of the youth standing next to him. "Not you.  _You_ , stay."

That was the moment that Saga got his first look at the young Saint that Klaus had held back, and the Gemini Saint was startled enough to raise his eyebrows in brief response. It was the trainee from the fighting arena, the one who's evasion and lightfootedness Saga had been admiring before Klaus had approached him. Now, with the boy in front of hm and unmoving, Saga was able to make a couple of additional observations. First was an understanding of why Ruben had chosen his particular insults; if it were not for the lack of a mask and the way his armor fitted to his body, even Saga might have been hard-pressed to accurately identify the youth's gender. Powder blue hair spilled down around his shoulders in waves, framing a heart-shaped face and full lips that were currently pressed together in clear displeasure. His light blue eyes were large and doeish, set above scuplted cheekbones that gave his face an elfin quality. To make complete the tribute to androgynous beauty, a single birthmark settled just beneath one eye, the only mark on an otherwise pristine complexion.

Which could not be said for the rest of him. The boy's bare arms already showed signs of bruising and he was clearly favoring one leg, though he attempted to hide it by standing tall, chin lifted in a show of haughty defiance. He looked at Saga unblinkingly, and their gazes locked for the first time.

Twin Cosmo of gold erupted and clashed in a flurry of recognition and challenge. Saga responded swiftly to the sudden, unexpected assault, his Cosmo flaring and enveloping the youth's within mere moments. The boy gasped, a look of shock on his face as he found himself so thoroughly subdued by the older, stronger Saint. To his credit, however, he neither wavered nor stumbled, remaining steadily on his feet. Anyone without the ability to sense Cosmo would have looked upon the scene as nothing more than a staredown, unaware of the inner battle going on between their hearts and will.

Klaus wore a small smile, and Saga had a feeling that this was exactly what the Master had hoped would happen. For a moment he felt a rush of irritation – the old man could have  _warned_  him! – but it passed in favor of focusing on ending the battle of Cosmo. He pushed a bit more forcefully, and watched with satisfaction as beads of sweat broke out on the youth's forehead, eyes darkening with frustration.

Their gazes held, the boy determined, Saga confident, and after another moment, and one more push, the youth gasped softly and withdrew, submitting the Saga's strength – yet from the fire still lighting his eyes the Gemini Saint knew that this was no surrender. Despite his age, the younger Saint was already wise enough to know how to pick and choose his battles, and when to recognize a comrade-in-arms versus an opponent.

"What is your name?" Saga asked, looking into wide, cerulean eyes.

The boy glanced briefly at Klaus, and the older man gave a slight nod. "Aphrodite," came the reply, in as defiant a tone as Saga had ever heard – clearly this had been a source of ridicule for him at the same level as his looks. There was no respectful 'sir' following the reply, no bow of greeting or salute. No, as far as this boy was concerned, he and Saga were equals - even if he  _had_  been forced to submit.

It was, Saga could not deny, an admirable trait. Though there was a clear hierarchy between the levels of Saints, and even within the Bronzes and Silvers, Gold Saints were not subservient to one another. He and Aiolos had age and experience, but there would come a time when that gap would diminish, and it would not do for some of the Gold Saints to see themselves as  _lesser_  than their elder compatriats.

Defiance could just as easily lend itself to arrogance, of course, but it was not up to Saga to make that final determination. He'd been tasked only to evaluate the strength of the boy, and if it was acceptable, to bring him back before the Kyoko in Sanctuary. And with that single challenege, that unexpectedly strong flare of Cosmo, Aphrodite had passed his evaluation without so much as breaking a sweat.

Both Klaus and the boy were looking at him now, Klaus with an expectant look upon his face, Aphrodite with a cautious look that reminded Saga of a cat gauging the potential danger of a larger opponent. They were waiting for a response from him, though whether it was the  _same_  response, Saga did not know. Either way it didn't matter; there was only one that the Gemini Saint could give.

"Pack your belongings, Aphrodite," Saga said, fixing him with a leveled gaze, "and make whatever preparations you need to make. You will be returning with me to Sanctuary."

And there it was; the barest hint of a smile gracing those full lips combined with a glint of determination within the blue eyes, and Saga was certain of only one thing – that if Shion for some reason did not accept this boy as the next Pisces Saint, then Aphrodite would do  _whatever_  he had to do to keep from returning to the Greenland training grounds.

Sanctuary, he suspected, was going to be in for quite a surprise.


	12. Pisces: Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The path of a Saint was all that Aphrodite had in his life. Returning home wasn't an option - he had no home to return to.

"Pack your belongings, Aphrodite, and make whatever preparations you need to make. You will be returning with me to Sanctuary."

Aphrodite hadn't needed to be told twice. No sooner had the words left Gemini Saga's mouth than he was on the move, turning on his heel and dashing down the path towards the barracks. He took no notice of anyone he passed, didn't even care if he knocked them over in his hurry. Gemini Saga had said the very words that Aphrodite had been desperately hoping to hear, and nothing and no one would be stopping him now.

Within his first year at the Greenland grounds he'd surpassed all of the other trainees his age, and several of the older ones as well. Part of that was because they had a tendency to underestimate him; at three foot nine and eight years old he had yet to hit the growth spurt that all of his peers seemed to be getting, and though he was strong enough to throw a boy twice his size over his shoulder his muscles had yet to fill out his slender frame. Their masters had drilled into them, time and time again, the lesson that one should never judge their opponent by appearances – and yet it continuously ended up being the downfall of Aphrodite's challengers.

The other part of his success what due entirely to Aphrodite's own natural skill and talent. He'd learned early on that speed and agility were just as valuable an asset as strength and power, that avoidance as key as landing a strike. In a battle the only attack that mattered was the final blow, that last strike that would incapacitate one fighter and bring victory to another. When he fought, he was always thinking not of the  _next_  strike, but of the one after it. It was the end goal that mattered, not everything in between. He'd honed his physical combat training in that direction, and the results had paid off. The instructors had been thrilled; Master Klaus himself had declared Aphrodite to be his best student.

Aphrodite reached the barracks and headed straight inside, keeping his head down and avoiding eye contact. Fortunately, most of the other trainees were either at their lessons or trying to sneak glimpses of Saga, leaving Aphrodite to make it to the safety of his room unhindered. He checked to make sure none of his roommates were present, then closed the door and leaned back against it as he sent a silent thanks for that; by the time word got out that Gemini Saga was there for  _him_ , he wanted to be far away from Greenland.

He  _hated_  this place.

Although his master and the other instructors had done nothing but sing his praises over the past three years, his fellow trainees' reactions had run the green-eyed emotional gamut. From the petty jealousy of those his own age who couldn't keep up with him to the embarrassed anger of the older trainees who couldn't believe they'd been bested by one so young, Aphrodite's hours outside of the training arena had been filled with ridicule, torment, and abuse.

It had started out with jeers and slights, then escalated to subtle and not-so-subtle attempts by the others to make him look bad in front of the instructors and resident Silver Saints. He couldn't count the number of times he'd be walking along the paths only to find himself suddenly flying forward and ending up face down in the dirt in front of a Silver Saint, or late to a lesson because someone had either locked him in the bathhouse or his clothing and armor had vanished.

Then there'd been the social stigma. Not all of the others had had the nerve to participate in the bullying, but neither did they want to put a target on themselves. After a week of entering the mess hall and finding no one willing to share table space with him, or even look him in the eye as he passed, Aphrodite had started to take his meals outside – at least until that had only served to make him an easy target again. After that he'd started to try to go to meals either before the others or after, where there'd be more open seats, or else he'd skip the meal altogether. The end result was the same whichever he chose – friendless Aphrodite, surrounded and yet alone.

He knew that all he had to do was tell Master Klaus, but his pride refused to let him. What sort of man would he be if he couldn't handle something like  _teasing?_  It didn't matter that he'd only been five when it had started – age meant  _nothing_  to a Saint. Telling Master Klaus might have stopped the bullying, yes, but it would have also left a permanent mark against him. If he couldn't handle himself against his fellow trainees, against children, how could he be expected to someday don a Cloth and protect Athena? Besides which, he'd figured that if he just waited it out, eventually he'd catch up in both size and age to the others; the older trainees would graduate from the training grounds and be assigned to their posts, and  _he'd_  be among the senior candidates. He'd have the age and experience to support his abilities, and the bullying would stop. He'd just have to hang in here until then. Right?

Wrong.

Oh, over the course of the next two years Aphrodite had started to gain height, but while his peers gained width in their shoulders, Aphrodite's had remained stubbornly slender. It wasn't that he didn't put on muscle; it was simply that the muscle didn't  _show_. Where the others boys bulked up he remained lean; where their faces began to square up and their eyes started to narrow, his remained delicate and doe-eyed. Add to it the natural wave in his hair, the irritating bow of his lips, and the  _beauty mark_  beneath his eye, and it was no  _wonder_  that scenes such as what he'd endured earlier had become typical and commonplace. This one had even been mild, compared to some of the previous ones. Under normal circumstances he probably wouldn't have lashed out as hard as he had this time – if not for the fact that it had happened during  _Gemini Saga's_ visit.

Aphrodite clenched his jaw, feeling the hot flush of embarrassed anger creeping its way up his neck and into his cheeks. He didn't know if Ruben had been deliberately attempting to shame him in front of the Gold Saint or if he had just been his usual detestable self – likely the second, because Aphrodite doubted he had the brains to think of the first – but it had nevertheless been mortifying to look up and find the Gemini Saint watching after he'd just finished swearing like a Swedish sailor at another trainee. The  _only_  saving grace was that Saga didn't appear to have caught Ruben actually grabbing Aphrodite – his temper hadn't flared until after. The only thing more deplorable than being treated like a woman,  _touched_  as if he were a woman, was having it happen in front of someone that he  _admired_. It had taken all of his will to maintain his composure before Saga after that.

Flaring his Cosmo as he had had been risky, he knew; the Gemini Saint could easily have taken it as a challenge or an attempt at grandstanding. Aphrodite hadn't cared, though. He'd already lost face with his outburst; he was sure he'd only had one more chance to prove to Saga that he had what it took to be a Saint, and that lay in the strength of his Cosmo. He knew his was stronger than any of the other trainees', possibly even more so than some of the other instructors. He knew he had what it took to be a Saint. Bronze or Silver, it didn't matter. Becoming a Saint, transferring to Sanctuary, was his only chance at leaving Greenland. Waiting for graduation, for a placement in the Guard or among the instructors, wasn't an option – such assignments typically didn't occur until mid-teens, when most trainees were past the time when they were most likely to be chosen by a Cloth. Aphrodite was only eight years old. He couldn't wait that long.

He  _had_  to become a Saint.

Aphrodite crossed the room to his bunk – each bedroom held four sets of bunk beds, eight to a room. At present the room was only at half-filled, giving each of them a full bunk, and he'd been fortunate in that his current bunk mates were among those who were willing to just ignore him, rather than torment him. He suspected  _Lærer_ Klaus may have had a hand in the assignments – a small blessing. If there was only one person he'd miss in this place, it would be his Master.

His bunk was the furthest from the door and closest to the only window. There was nothing distinctive about his personal space – the bunk matched the others, oak wood with the same utilitarian gray bedding, the wooden trunk at the foot of the bed identical to the other four. The trunk held his only personal belongings: a spare set of armor, two extra sets of clothing, and the few keepsakes he'd brought with him after leaving Sweden – a wooden doll dressed in the  _folkdrakt_  of his birth village, a silver locket that hadn't been opened in years, and a leather-bound book with the name Αφροδιτη burned into the cover – his name. He'd always wondered why he, born of Swedish ancestry, had been given the name of a Greek goddess at birth. It wasn't a question he'd ever asked, however, for by the time he'd been old enough to consider the oddity of it there'd been no one for him to ask. Six months after being brought to the training grounds by _Lærer_  Klaus a fever had swept through his hometown, killing over half of the population – including his mother, father, and baby sister.

That fever had solidified his resolve once and for all. For all the difficulties that he faced with his fellow trainees, the path of a Saint was all that Aphrodite had in his life. Returning home wasn't an option - he had no home to return to. It was either this path or none at all.

He wrapped the three items up in his spare clothes and slipped them into a traveling bag, leaving the armor in the trunk; it would be too cumbersome to carry that with him, and he'd get a new set in Sanctuary. Once he'd taken what he wanted from the trunk, he stood up and dusted off his knees, then shouldered the bag and turned back to the door.

Before he could take a step, however, he hesitated, delicately biting his lower lip in thought. He was going to Sanctuary to start over, to continue his path in a place where he would be recognized by his talent, his very presence there proof that he belonged. Whether he became a Bronze or Silver Saint, it didn't matter – only eighty-eight out of hundreds were granted a Cloth, and he would be one of them. There was no need to bring memories of this place, which had only caused him pain, and yet…

He dropped his bag onto the bed and leaned down, pushing the trunk over to the window. Stepping up on top of it, balancing precariously on the sloped lid, he pushed open the window and carefully leaned out, leaning against the sill for leverage. His room was located on the first floor, so the height wasn't a danger for tumbling out – but the last thing he wanted to do was land on what lay just below the window itself.

"I'm sorry," Aphrodite murmured. "I almost left without saying good-bye."

The old rose bushes that lined the far side of the barracks didn't respond, of course – at least not in any clear way that could be understood. There were a lot of people who scoffed at the idea that flowers might have a language of their own, but not Aphrodite – or, at the very least, not when it came to roses. For as far back as he could remember he had always had an affinity with the perennial. One of the few memories he had of his life with his parents was of a small rose garden that had belonged to his mother; he supposed it was from she that his connection to the flowers had been born. Yet sometimes he wondered it if went deeper than that…

The rose bushes in question were a good example of his uncanny aptitude; when he'd first been assigned to this room, they'd been little more than tangled branches and leaves. There'd been no indication that they ever had, or ever would again, sprout any sort of flower. Yet Aphrodite had recognized them as being similar to the bushes that his mother had raised and had taken it upon himself to take care of them – a way of holding onto something familiar while the rest of his life was so difficult. He'd done it when no one else was around, of course; had his bullies gotten wind of his hobby, no doubt he would have returned to the barracks one day to find the bushes uprooted and trampled.

Under his attention the roses had flourished, the first blooms opening within a few weeks. In the years that passed Aphrodite had sought solace with the flowers – and having to leave them behind was one of the hardest things he'd ever had to do. "Don't wither away once I'm gone, okay?" he whispered. "You're so much stronger than that."

He started to step down from his makeshift stool – and paused. Impulsively he leaned out of the window again and reached down to one of the roses, carefully feeling around beneath the bloom until he located the swelled hip tucked beneath it. He removed it from the stem, gently holding it as he straightened back up and ducked back in through the window. He found a clean cloth and wrapped the delicate seed pod in it, tucking it into a small pocket in his bag where it was unlikely to be damaged.

He lifted the satchel to his shoulder and headed to the door, pausing briefly to look at his reflection in the room's only mirror. For a moment he stood there, staring at the heart-shaped face and slender body that had caused him nothing but pain since he had come to Greenland. He tightened his grip on the satchel strap. No more. He was going to Sanctuary, where his worth would be determined by his ability, not by his appearance. Never again would he have to bear humility with silence. He would face the challenges put before him, and if he ever returned to this place it would not be as a mere trainee or a guard, but as a Saint.

He would prove to everyone that Aphrodite was  _not_  a victim.

The door shut behind him with a resounding thud, leaving behind a mirror that reflected nothing, and closing another chapter of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ::wrings hands nervously:: And here is where I put my money where my mouth is, proverbially speaking. This was the final chapter of the re-post - which means that next week, I'll be debuting the never-before-read Chapter 13. I feel like I've been hyping this chapter up, perhaps too much, so I'm probably going to spend the next week anxiously going over it in beta review again and again until it's perfect. Which it might never be, but I *will* post it. And I hope it'll be worth the wait, because I know some of you have been waiting a long time. 
> 
> If you'd like to get more updates regarding my writing, both for this and other stories, or are interested in checking out some of my original work, please look me up at: https://akatsuki-celeste.tumblr.com/


	13. Gemini: Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If he couldn't believe in that… what point was there to even existing?

The small house stood amidst the ruins on the outskirts of Sanctuary proper, distant enough for most of inhabitants to be unaware of its existence and yet still be within Athena's protections. Once, this area had been bustling with activity, full of Saints and potentials and guards, life and hope and dreams. But time and war had taken its toll, and with the destruction left in the wake of the previous Holy War, Shion had been left with no choice but to abandon certain aspects of Sanctuary in order to focus their limited resources on rebuilding others.

Shion's chest grew tight as he stood at the top of the crudely constructed staircase that connected the shattered pathway; this section hadn't always been two levels, but at one point the ground had shifted and the road had collapsed upon itself. The staircase had been a haphazard, rushed and ramshackle construction, necessary to access the lower portion for urgencies alone and only minimally maintained, created back when Teneo had convinced Shion that they needed to at least have  _access_  to the lower portion, even if they never made any use of it – for surveying purposes if nothing else.

Shion had never honestly imagined that he'd – or anyone else – would have to use this staircase o the house that it led to again, and it left him unsettled. Knowing that it was on  _his_  authority that this small dwelling was currently in use left a bad taste in his mouth, but he hadn't seen any other option at the time. The laws regarding the Gemini were ancient, and although the events leading to their creation were lost in the annals of history, Shion knew all too well the consequences of breaking them. He had no choice.

Even if the look on Kanon's face when he'd told the boy that he had to leave the Gemini Temple had nearly broken his heart.

As Grand Master, Shion had made several decisions over the long decades that never sat well with him; separating the twins, even if it wasn't permanent and he didn't forbid them from seeing each other, had been one of the hardest. He'd even gone to Dohko for counsel, but they'd been unable to come up with a better solution. The truth of the matter was that as they drew ever closer to Athena's rebirth, more Cloths were awakening at a rapid rate, more Saints were being selected, and with the added number of Cosmos-sensitive residents in Sanctuary it would become harder to conceal Kanon's presence even  _with_  Saga being used as his cover. Saga had argued with him emphatically over the matter, demanding to know why it would be an issue for other Saints to know he had a twin, until Shion had finally had no choice but to tell him the hard truth - that it wasn't their allies that Kanon needed to be concealed from, but their enemies.

The Gemini Saints had always been – and deep inside Shion feared always would be – the greatest vulnerability of the Saints of Athena.

Shion didn't know if he'd be able to keep such dark moments from happening again, but he  _was_  determined to do one thing right – to view the shadow twin as a person, not as a shame. He had every intention, had  _always_  intended, to find a way to bring Kanon out of the shadows and make his existence not only known but  _accepted._ It was a thought that had occurred to him periodically over the past, whenever he found himself thinking of the tragedies of his generation – but his determination had cemented itself that day he had found himself wandering through a London neighborhood and his eyes had landed on the twins huddled together on a townhouse stoop for the first time. It was one thing to think in abstract terms when the subjects were out of sight, and an entirely impossible matter when you were face-to-face with a pair of four-year-olds staring at you like they didn't know if they should take your hand or bite it.

There'd been a part of himself that had wanted to walk away that day, to pretend he had never found them. To give them, perhaps, a chance at growing up with a normal life. And yet even as toddlers he'd felt the heat of their Cosmos searing his own. If they'd been that strong then, untrained, leaving them behind would have only meant leaving them unprotected. Hades wasn't the only enemy of Athena, and not all of the others were bound by an ancient cycle of time.

The twins had been the first, and they held a special place in his heart that was rivaled only by Mu. The twins had  _needed_  him, needed both what he could teach them and the support that he could offer. Those first few years had been peaceful and bright, and he had enjoyed watching Saga and Kanon learn and grow together. He had almost been able to forget that things could not remain that way forever – until the day that the Gemini Cloth had chosen its bearer, and the die had been cast.

It had been one of the most heart-wrenching decisions that he had ever had to make as Grand Master, knowing that the choice was out of his hands, that he could do nothing to change fate. The night before the claiming he had prayed that the Cloth would choose Kanon, that somehow  _that_  might be all that was needed to sever the cycle of darkness that had plagued the Geminis across countless lifetimes. Foolish hopes – if it were as simple as that, the curse wouldn't have been such a concern. He had known, even before the Cloth had woken and found its chosen, what the outcome would be.

And so instead he'd turned his attention towards the combined task of both preparing Saga for the inevitable war and protecting Kanon in the shadows. He knew that the younger twin didn't fully understand the sudden necessity of his concealment; Shion had already taken precautions, knowing that eventually one twin would have to be hidden, but it was only after Saga ascended to the rank of Gold Saint that Kanon was forced into near isolation. Near, because he refused to follow the ancient practice of separating the twins completely. Beyond a shadow of a doubt he was certain that such a separation would only do them more harm than good.

He was no fool, though; he knew that no human could survive in this world being isolated so completely from others, and here he had enlisted Dohko's help on more than one occasion. While within the boundaries of Sanctuary Kanon was restricted to only certain places at certain times – restrictions which became more severe as the twins grew older and Saga had to make more frequent trips to the outside world – at Mount Rozan the twins had had acres of forest and mountains to explore without fear of anyone stumbling across them and understanding the implications. The village that bordered the peaks wasn't like Rodario; to their knowledge Dohko was nothing more than a well-renowned instructor of martial arts, the training grounds merely his school. They knew nothing of Sanctuary, nothing of Saints or Athena, and so when the twins would visit, they merely smiled and indulged their young visitors.

Shion closed his eyes for a moment, his chest suddenly tight. Those visits to Mount Rozan had never failed to bring a smile to Kanon's face, but they – like so much – had become more and more infrequent, and those smiles harder and harder to find. He could not, in fact, recall the last time he had seen Kanon seem genuinely happy outside of Saga's presence, and the darkness in his eyes had only grown more profound with the passage of time.

Had he, in trying so hard to protect one brother, inadvertently doomed the other?

Shion gave a sharp shake of his head and opened his eyes, squaring his shoulders and making his way down the path to the stonework cottage. He would  _not_  believe that. It was not one or the other for him; Saga and Kanon shared a soul, but they were each their own person, unique and brilliant in their own ways. He was as proud of Kanon's accomplishments as he was of Saga's. Losing either of them would break his heart, and he worried too often that the younger Gemini didn't realize this.

Through the windows he could see the faintest glow of lanternlight, but it was otherwise silent within. It had been over two months since Kanon had been confined to this small dwelling in this forgotten corner of Sanctuary, and a week since Saga had been sent from Sanctuary on the mission to see the Pisces and Taurus potentials brought safely from their training grounds. Without Saga's Cosmo to mask Kanon's he had no choice but to remain confined here, within the small sphere of mental influence that Shion had created to shield him, leaving Kanon in complete isolation. Shion had  _intended_  to visit him sooner…

Intentions could only go so far.

He paused in front of the door and listened for a moment, then reached up and knocked gently. He listened again and still heard nothing more, and just as he was about to reach for the doorknob and let himself in, he heard the sound of the lock turning. The door opened slightly, and a pair of teal eyes stared at him for a long moment through the crack.

"…Shi-Grand Master?" The hesitation in his voice and the stumble between Shion's name and title paired with the lost light in Kanon's eyes made Shion's heart ache.

"Hello, Kanon," Shion said with a soft – and hopefully reassuring – smile. "I apologize for the late intrusion – may I come in?"

There was another hesitation, uncertainty rolling off of the youth in waves. The twins had a strong natural psychic talent in addition to a powerful Cosmos, and as he had with Mu, Shion had personally trained them on their mental shielding from a very young age. Saga tended to be more lax with his shields, but Kanon kept his habitually tight, an ingrained habit that went along with the suppression of his Cosmo. That his emotions were leaking through now solidified the fact that Shion should have visited far sooner.

Kanon stepped back, disappearing from view for a moment before as he moved to the side and pulled the door open further to allow Shion entrance. The first thing Shion did was scan the room, and he was relieved to find that at the very least Kanon appeared to have been taking care of himself well enough. The room was tidy, the kitchen was clean, and it looked as if before Shion had arrived he'd been sitting in a chair near the wood stove reading a book, judging by the volume turned upside down on the table next to the only lantern. There was a low fire crackling in the stove, heating the room just enough to be comfortable, and in corner the single bed appeared to be neartly made.

"Don't worry," Kanon murmured as he firmly closed the door behind them. "I haven't fallen into the dark abyss just because I haven't seen my brother in a week, if that's why you came to find out."

Shion started at the abrupt statement and immediately turned to face him. "I did come to see how you were doing," Shion admitted, because he knew better than to deny it; of the two, Kanon possessed the greater talent for calling people's bluffs. Shion had learned this from rather painful and embarrassing experience. "And to tell you that Saga has arrived at the Brazilian Training Grounds safely, and will return here once he ascertains the status of the Taurus Saint potential there – all told, he'll probably be back in three more days."

Kanon stilled, his hand resting on the knob of the closed door. His hair fell over his face, obscuring his expression from Shion's view; slowly he withdrew his hand and lifted his head to give Shion a smile tightly tinged with relief. "Glad to hear it," he said. "But even if the potentials he picked up actually get chosen, that still leaves you down, what… two more Gold Saints? He's going to have to go out again, isn't he?"

"Perhaps, and perhaps not," Shion replied. He unclasped the cloak wrapped around his shoulders and draped it over his arm. There was a couch as well as the armchair in the small sitting area; Shion had at the very least made that Kanon would be comfortable while he had to remain in this place. "it depends on when and how we locate the Capricorn and Cancer potentials. It could be that either Aiolos or myself would be better suited to the retrieval, or perhaps they'll find their way to us on their own." He met Kanon's eyes and held his gaze, motioning to the other chair and watching as Kanon lowered himself into it with obvious hesitation. "I'm not trying to separate the two of you, Kanon. I would never do such a thing. I hope you know that."

Kanon carded his fingers through his hair. "Of course I know that," he said tightly. "I assure you that the thought never once occurred to me, Grand Master. You've explained and stressed the necessity of this to both of us for years, and we understand."

"Just because you understand it doesn't mean that it gets any easier," Shion said gently. "And all of this is only temporary. Once the Gold Saints have been assembled and the Sanctuary secure, Athena will be able to take her rightful place within her temple and there will no longer be a need for you to use the shadows as your shield. Bear with it just a bit longer, Kanon. You are Saga's greatest support – he relies on you in ways that he does no one else." He took a deep breath. "And he's going to need that support in the coming months - more than ever."

"More than ever?" Alarm flashed in Kanon's eyes. "What do you mean? Is something going to happen?"

Shion folded his hands in his lap, his expression growing serious. "Once Athena's arrival at Sanctuary occurs, it will mark the beginning of the next Holy War cycle," he said. "This is ordained and cannot be diverted; we can only do what we can do to prepare for the inevitable battle. As Gemini Saint – "

"Saga will be on the frontlines," Kanon finished. He absently began to twist strands of his hair around his fingers. "I know about the Holy War, but… it can't be that soon, Grand Master, can it? The Holy War occurs every, what, two hundred years? Athena hasn't even been  _reborn_  yet, the War can't possibly happen before she comes of age." He stared at Shion. "Can it?"

Shion sighed. "I wish that I could say no," he confessed, "but that knowledge is beyond even me. Athena's fate may be tied to the Holy War, but that is not necessarily the case for her reincarnation cycle. When the Holy War commences she will be alive… and that is  _all_  we know."

"Meaning that she could still be a child the next time Hades rises," Kanon realized. "And the other Gold Saints…"

"Could  _also_  still be children," Shion confirmed. "It is the unfortunate burden of the Saints of Athena; during the eras of peace we can afford to guide the potentials slowly, but during the eras of war the Cloths can, will, choose  _the best_  to bear them, regardless of their age. If the Holy War comes sooner rather than later, Kanon, then Saga and Aiolos will not merely be on the frontlines – they will be  _commanding_  the fight."

"Why are you telling me this?" Kanon blurted out. "Saga's the Gemini Saint, not me!" He forcibly pushed himself up from the chair, his sudden spike of anxiety escaping his shields and slamming into Shion's own. Shion deflected it, then reached out the brush his shield against Kanon's, projecting soothing into the opening. Kanon didn't break stride as he paced around the small room, but his fidgeting lessened, his Cosmo became less chaotic, and Shion withdrew before Kanon realized that he was there.

"The bond you and Saga share runs deeper than that of most twins, Kanon," Shion gently replied. He chose his words carefully, monitoring Kanon closely; he didn't want to set him off again in case of another burst. "It exists on a metaphysical level – the line between the two of you is blurred to a degree most cannot fathom. You ground each other." He took a deep breath. "Do you remember what I told you before, when you and Saga first began your training? About the nature of it?"

Kanon made a sound of frustration and stopped pacing, then went back to the chair and threw himself into it with far less grace than he had the first time. "Yeah, I remember," he said. "Our abilities are psychic in nature, which is why you had to train us in psychic shielding before you let us actually train our Cosmos."

"And?"

" _And_ , they're not just psychic in nature, they're  _offensively_  psychic. Unlike you Aries Saints, who specialize in psychic defense, when our Cosmos is heightened Saga and I have the potential to actually manipulate and  _alter_  minds. I  _know_  all of this, Shion, and so does Saga.  _Why_  are you making me recite it all like some kind of bloody text book?"

"Because you asked me a question, Kanon, and it's one that you already have the answer to." Shion gave him a look that spoke of infinite patience. "What  _else_  did I tell you about your particular brand of psychic prowess?"

Kanon gave him a look of pure frustration. "That it's got downsides, which is why Saga and I can't just go around manipulating the mindsets of anyone we come across who pisses us off. Not that we  _would_ , but hey, I can see why you'd want to caution a couple of four year olds who haven't quite gotten the grasp of morals. Of course, there was the side of effect of scaring the hell out of us. You do realize we didn't sleep for a month after that?"

Shion raised an eyebrow, the corners of his lips curling up in the beginning of a smile.

"Okay, so that part might be an exaggeration." Kanon's frustration turned to irritation. "Don't do that, Shion. Fine; I'll play. Every time we connect with another mind, the metaphysical boundaries of our own becomes blurred. Using actual manipulation causes this to intensify. Doi this too much or too frequently and the damage can prove to be irreparable. Our minds could literally become lost on the metaphysical plane and unable to be retrieved."

"Unless there is someone to ground you or bring you back," Shion finished. "I told you this when the Gemini Cloth made its choice, and I will tell it to you again.  _You_  are that lifeline for Saga. When the Holy War begins Saga's strength will be needed more than ever, and  _you_  will be the force that keeps him going." He looked straight into Kanon's eyes. "Many years ago I asked you to take on this heavy burden, and you agreed without hesitation. Now we are at this moment, and I ask you again - are you prepared to dedicate your life to your brother, Kanon? Can you stand behind him, support him, and protect him when the time comes – even at risk of yourself?"

Kanon's eyes flashed with indignation. "Of course, I can," he snapped. "He's my  _brother._  He's the one constant thing in my entire world, and I would sooner  _die_  than lose him. I made a promise, and I do  _not_  go back on my promises." He clenched and unclenched his fists a couple of times, a war of thoughts playing out on his face. "But I don't want to just…stand by and  _watch_. If war is coming, Shion, I want to  _help_. You said that once Athena is here I won't have to hide anymore. I want more than that." His expression grew anxious, earnest,  _pleading_  as he leaned forward, the fabric of his pants legs bunching up in his clenched hands. "Saga and I aren't the first twins to be taken in by Sanctuary. Your predecessor, Cancer Sage, had a twin brother who also served as a Silver Saint during the 16th Century Holy War."

"Altair Hakurei; yes, I know of him," Shion said with a nod, his chest tightening as he thought about his own beloved master. That Altair Hakurei had survived the war and retired to serve as the Master of Jamir while Sage went on to become the next Pope of Sanctuary was a lesser known fact, and one that not been recorded in the histories of the next War. The wisest thing to do would have been to expunge him from the histories  _completely_ , but Shion had not been able to bring himself to do so; it felt too much like denying his master's existence entirely. Hakurei had forsworn his own name and identity when he had assumed Sage's, and Shion could not allowed the little that remained of him to vanish. He had to fight himself to keep from cutting off Kanon before he spoke again; he  _knew_  what the young Gemini was going to ask next, and he knew what answer he would have to give.

"I want to serve as a Saint of Athena," Kanon said. "I don't care if it's not as a Gold Saint; Silver or Bronze will do. I want a chance to be chosen by another Cloth, so that I can fight at my brother's side, not stand behind him in the shadows." He looked at Shion with earnest hope. "I know the Cloths choose and not the other way around, but  _please_ , Shion – I just want the chance."

Silence stretched between them, and with each passing second Shion could see the disappointment and distress darkening Kanon's eyes. Finally he sighed and shook his head.

"I'm sorry, Kanon," Shion murmured. "There is no Silver or Bronze Cloth that would accept you because another Cloth has already laid claim on you. The Gemini Cloth."

Kanon jerked back as though he'd been electrocuted. "But…!"

Shion held up his hand and Kanon fell silent. "Cancer Sage and Altair Hakurei were twins, yes, but they were guided by two different stars and possessed two very different sources of power – Hakurei could no more be the Cancer Saint than Sage be Altair. The same cannot be said of you and Saga. Your Cosmo and the abilities that develop through it – they come from the same source." He looked pained. "I wanted to spare you this, Kanon, because I feared it would only serve to cause you pain – but the truth is that the Gemini Cloth didn't just choose your brother. It chose you both. It wanted you both. But it is incapable of separating itself into two Cloths, and so it was forced to pick one of you over the other. It chose Saga to bear it, and  _you_  to bear Saga."

The light had faded completely from Kanon's eyes. "So what you're saying is that the only way for me to become a Saint and fight for Athena… is if my brother is no longer able to be the Gemini Saint," Kanon said dully.

If Saga died.

"I'm sorry," Shion repeated softly.

He watched as Kanon brought his hands up and lowered his head to rest in them, his fingers burying into his thick mane of teal hair, the only true difference between the otherwise perfectly identical twins – hair just a few shades lighter than Saga's own, so subtle that only those who knew them as well as Shion would be able to notice. Shion half-rose from his chair and reached out to place his hand on Kanon's shoulder, but before he could Kanon straightened up, pulling out of Shion's reach.

"Thanks for stopping by to see me, Grand Master," Kanon said, his tone has schooled in calm as his expression. "If you don't mind, though, I think I'd like to turn in early. I have training to complete in the morning."

The last thing that Shion wanted to do was leave Kanon alone, but Kanon was fifteen and fully capable of making his own decisions – and if one of those decisions was that he wanted to be alone with his thoughts, then Shion would not deny him that. "Of course," he said, rising fully to his feet. "If you need to talk…"

Kanon cut him off. "Three days? Until Saga comes home?"

Shion gave a slight nod. "Three days."

"Thank you." Kanon turned his head to the side, fixing his gaze on the red coals that could be seen through the slats in the door of the wood stove. When Shion tentatively reached out to test Kanon's mental barrier, he found that the earlier break in it was sealed tight, and no further cracks could be found.

"Good night, Kanon," Shion said at last. He swept his cloak around his shoulders and fastened it into place. As he let himself out and closed the door quietly behind him, Kanon remained unmoving, his face lit by the soft red glow of fire.

* * *

The sound of the shutting door echoed through the single room, the crackle and pop of the coals in the fire cacophonously loud in the silence left behind in Shion's wake. Kanon listened, straining his ears for the footfalls of his master as they receded, and didn't move until they had faded entirely.

Only then did he lean forward, elbows resting on knees, and one more lower his head into his hands.

When he'd read the history of the twins Sage and Hakurei, hope had flared within him – the hope that maybe he'd found a way to finally stand on equal footing with Saga. A way for him to step out of the shadows that he'd lived in all his life and stand  _beside_  his twin, instead of behind him. He had the same training that Saga did; they'd trained under Shion side by side, and even after the Gemini Cloth had chosen his brother and Kanon could no longer train openly, Saga had continued to ensure that he remained on the same level as his brother. Yet even though he had continued to match Saga in technique and ability, he had never quite been able to shake the feeling of inferiority born of being  _second best_.

Worse than finding out that even a Silver Cloth was out of his reach was finding out the reason  _why_. In the six years since he and Saga had knelt before the dormant Gemini Cloth and their fates had been decided, it had never occurred to Kanon that the Cloth had claimed  _two_  masters that day… but could only allow itself to be worn by one. Shion didn't need to spell it out for Kanon to understand.

For Kanon to realize that the only way for him to become a Saint in truth…would be at the cost of Saga's life.

The thought alone sent a shudder through him. He  _knew_  the dangers of being a Saint; Shion had never sugarcoated it for them, and despite bringing them to Sanctuary at the age of four and immediately throwing them into training, the final choice – the decision of whether or not this was what they wanted to dedicate their lives to – had been theirs alone. They'd known the risks, the dangers. They knew that at some point in their generation Hades would rise again, forcing them into a war between gods and possibly resulting in one or both of their deaths. Kanon had tried not to dwell on that possibility and the few times he had, it had been with the thought that  _he_  would protect Saga – that if one of them had to die, it would be  _him_. Now he was being told that the only way he would ever find himself on that battlefield would be if his brother's life had already been lost. The thought alone made his stomach twist with nausea, his chest growing so tight that it became hard to breathe.

For as long as Kanon could remember, Saga had always been there for him. He'd looked out for him, defended him from bullies, stayed with him when he was sick; a strong, silent presence at Kanon's side. As children Kanon had  _idolized_  Saga; as teenagers, there was no one he loved nor respected more than his twin. When Saga had been chosen to be the Gemini Saint, Kanon had sworn to himself that when the time came and Saga's life was in danger, he would be right there beside him – to sacrifice himself in his brother's place, to save a life worth so much more than his own.

If he couldn't believe in that… what point was there to even existing?

"Saga would be furious if he knew I was thinking like this," Kanon whispered. He lifted his head and pushed his hands through his hair, taking in a deep, shuddering breath. Saga was his world, and he knew he held the same place in his brother's heart. If Saga knew that he was having these thoughts, he'd tear them apart until every doubt was erased.

Until Saga had to return to the Temple, and Kanon was alone again.

"Tsk. Such melancholy. Your brother really  _would_ be disappointed if he could see what's going on inside your head right now."

Kanon froze, hands half-buried in his hair as his gaze swept the darkened living room, the flames from the reading lamp beside his chair casting dancing shadows over the walls. At first glance the room appeared empty – then the shadows seemed to shift, twisting and twining, forming a humanoid shape that then detached itself from the wall, the tall, wiry figure separating himself as if he'd grown from the very shadows themselves.

Kanon shuddered at the sight of the man, the dark, shaggy hair, the scruff of mustache and goatee, the eyes that appeared devoid of both life and soul. The look of them was an extreme contrast between the mocking curl of thin lips that twisted across his face. The casual way that he stood on the opposite of the room from Kanon only made the foreboding air that his presence brought into the cabin more intense and unsettling.

Kanon drew in a sharp breath. "You don't exist," he said abruptly, sitting up straight and slamming back against the wooden rails of the chair back. "You shouldn't be here."

"Because I'm a 'figment of your imagination'?" The shadow man chuckled, flashing a bright, toothy grin that stood out in the darkness. "Poor, poor deluded young Gemini. How hard you struggle to tell yourself these things in the  _desperate_  hope that they might prove to be true." He moved closer, casually leaning against the back of the chair that Shion had vacated only moments before. "If I were you, however, I'd rather hope I  _wasn't_  just a portent of your distressed mind. Otherwise that would make you, well…" He smirked, and a cruel spark appeared in his eyes. "Crazy."

"I'm not crazy." Kanon's voice was sharpened with an edge of warning.

"Oo – did I strike a nerve?" The smirk did not abate, its wearer taking clear joy in Kanon's obvious discomfort. " _So_  sorry. But then, I'm not the one who rifled through things he shouldn't have and discovered parts best left undisturbed."

"Be  _quiet!_ " Kanon shot to his feet, pacing across the room, keeping to his side of the cabin in an effort to maintain distance between himself and his uninvited guest. He shoved his hands through his hair again in agitation, pushing the long mane back from his face, then crossed his arms over his chest and tapping his fingers rapidly against his elbows.

"Hmm; now,  _there's_  a good question," his- _the_  shadow mused. "If you tell me to be quiet and I keep talking, does that prove I'm not part of your mind? Or does it mean that you're so far gone that you don't even have the mental capacity to control an aspect of your own personality? If I were more of a learned man I might know the answer, but… alas." He tilted his head to the side, regarding Kanon out of the corner of his eye. "We could always ask that master of yours.  _He_  seems like he might be well versed in the inner workings of someone's head."

Kanon spun on his heel, eyes flashing. "Leave Shion out of this!" he said angrily.

"Is that  _defensiveness_  I hear?" The shadow laughed, a tittering sound caught somewhere between a chuckle and a giggle, a pitched sound that set every hair on the back of Kanon's neck on end. "Tsk, tsk. Such  _loyalty_  your master commands from you. Even after he confines you to this place, to these four crumbling walls that are part of Sanctuary and yet not. He tells you it is for your  _safety_ , and yet one must ask – what are you being kept safe  _from_?"

Kanon dug his nails into his arms, leaving half-moon impressions in his skin; small red drops welled up around the deepest of them. "Shion's never wanted anything but the best for me and Saga," he said. "He took us in when we were children. He gave us a home, a life, a  _purpose_. Don't you  _dare_  hint that he might have anything but the best of intentions for us!"

"Are you trying to convince me, or are you trying to convince  _yourself?_ " His shadow quirked an eyebrow. "Come on now, Kanon. You were young, but you weren't so young that you don't remember. You and your brother  _had_  a home. Shion didn't  _give_  that to you – he  _took_  it from you.

"It wasn't much of a life, I'll give you that. A small flat in a rundown part of London, days spent with a neighbor who paid far more attention to her own children's needs than yours while your father worked long hours in an attempt to provide for his family." The shadow began to move around the room as well, mimicking Kanon's pacing with slow, deliberate steps, as if he were a prowling jungle cat. "But it  _was_  a life, nonetheless. It was  _your_  life. Then one day along comes a man, a veritable stranger, who takes one look at you and your brother and decides that he  _must_  take the two of you back to Greece with him. And despite the fact that no  _sane_  parent would ever agree to give their young children over to a complete stranger, one who claims that he can help you reach your full potential as a  _Saint_  – your father somehow agrees to this. Have you  _never_  wondered about this? Have you never thought that something might be  _odd_  about this tale?"

" _Shut up!"_ Kanon leapt to his feet and snatched up the nearest object, launching it across the room at the shadow. It passed through and crashed into the opposite wall, the force of the throw extinguishing the flame as the shattered remnants fell to the ground, plunging the room into darkness. Kanon froze, standing there in the darkness, breathing heavily in the silence. He wrapped his arms around himself, closing his eyes and trying to ease the trembling in his body.

His shadow was wrong. He vaguely recalled their father, a handsome man, widowed too young and trying desperately to provide for twin boys that he was unable to support. He'd done his best for them, but his best had involved working impossibly long hours, leaving his sons in the care of a neighborhood with too many children of her and barely making enough to put food on the table. Kanon had never been able to recall exactly what it was that had drawn Shion's attention to them – but he knew that their father hadn't simply given them over to Shion just to be  _rid_  of them. He  _knew_ it.

_Then why have you never been allowed to visit him?_ The voice whispered in the back of Kanon's mind, causing a full-bodied shudder to spread through him. He'd asked Saga that same question once, and his brother had deflected it with a simply assurance that it was something they'd talk about 'later'. Except that later had never come, and as the years had passed and Saga had become more and more absorbed in his training, in his duties, and Kanon in his desperate attempts to keep up with Saga. He'd all but forgotten, but the shadows words had dredged it all up, brought the hazy memories to the surface.

There had been, at once point, when Saga had hidden something from him. And that meant that Saga could easily be keeping  _more_ from him. More secrets. His throat tightened, his vision blurred, and his pulse began to race. Shion… Saga… was it possible? Were they keeping something from him…hiding things? Secrets? Was there was reason why he was being forced to live this…this half-life, locked away in Saga's shadow…something beyond merely his  _safety?_

Fingernails digging into his arms, Kanon sank down to his knees and curled up on himself, closing his eyes tight. In the darkness of the cabin, it felt as if the walls were closing in on him.  _Saga. Saga, I need you. I don't want to be alone._

His only answer was the cold silence of the dark.

* * *

Saga's eyes snapped open with a start, his hand flying to his chest, pressing at the point just over his heart. The vivid words that had jarred him from his sleep faded the moment he woke, but the rapid pounding of his pulse betrayed the lingering uneasiness that still remained. That sense of being where he wasn't supposed to be, without being able to precisely identify where he  _should_ be. He drew in a slow, steadying breath, closing his eyes and attempting to calm his racing heartbeat.

"Bad dream?"

The deep, serious tone drew Saga's attention away from his own momentarily distress to look at the person in the seat beside him. The boy who had taken the name of Aldebaran was looking at him inquisitively, his head cocked slightly to one side.  _Boy_  seemed the wrong word to use with him, given that at his height he could have easily been mistaken for being twice his age, but the innocent, inquisitive concern that he looked to Saga with betrayed his youth. The question surprised Saga – since they'd left Brazil, Aldebaran had hardly spoken two words to his new companions. It was just as well;  _Aphrodite_  had words enough for the both of them, although the blue-haired Swede was now curled up in the window seat on the other side of Saga, head pillowed on his arm as he slept. Apeaceful sleep from the looks of it; Saga couldn't help but envy him.

"Nothing serious," Saga said in response to Aldebaran's question, keeping his tone intentionally light. He had no issues with the Taurus potential, but he opened his heart to no one – not even Aiolos – and he had no intention of starting now. "And nothing for you to worry yourself about," he interjected when he saw Aldebaran prepare himself to speak again. "Someday you'll have plenty of things on your mind, things that you'd rather not think about if you had the choice. Enjoy your time before then while you can."

Aldebaran looked at him for a moment, then sighed, settling back into his seat. "We all have ghosts in our past that we don't want to face," he said quietly. "Being a Gold Saint isn't a requirement for that. My master always said that one of the most difficult things for a Saint to do was finding the balance between their duty to Athena and their duty to their own hearts."

Saga raised his eyebrows in response, giving the large youth an appraising look. Unlike Aphrodite, who wore his emotions and intentions on his sleeve for anyone to see, Saga had found it much more difficult to get a handle on the Taurus potential.

The Brazilian training grounds were located in the heart of the Amazon, and while Saga could make it there in no time at all, it had been easier to leave Aphrodite in the hotel room that he'd secured in Brazil's capital city. While Aphrodite was already well on his way towards mastering light speed travel, he still couldn't match Saga, and even a Saint potential couldn't discard the effects of jet lag – a fact which the young Swede had made damn sure Saga was aware of since the moment they'd gotten off the plane from Greenland. It hadn't taken much thought for Saga to decide that it would be easier to approach the potential Taurus Saint  _without_  Aphrodite in tow.

He had not expected to find Aldebaran waiting at the entrance to the training grounds, his few personal belongings already packed away in a satchel at his feet. Saga's intention had been to evaluate Aldebaran just as he had done with Aphrodite, to determine if his Cosmo really was worthy of bearing the Cloth of his guardian constellation, but it seemed as if Aldebaran himself had already known the answer. Saga had told no one of his arrival, and yet the young Saint potential had  _known._

In hindsight it shouldn't have surprised him, given Aldebaran's history. It was rare for a Saint potential to be trained by the previous bearer of the Cloth that they would one day inherit, but Aldebaran had had the honor of not only being trained by Taurus Teneo, but also being named and raised by him. And the fact that the name that he'd been given at birth, Aldebaran, was the same as those renowned Taurus Saints of Holy Wars past spoke volumes of the act's significance. Saga himself had only had the privilege of meeting Teneo a handful of times during his training, but he'd always felt nothing but respect for the man who had dedicated his life to bearing the mantle of his master and to rebuilding Sanctuary to its former glory following the 18th Century Holy War. He had been one of the last survivors of what was often hailed as the bloodiest Holy War since the Age of Myth, and he had shouldered that responsibility with quiet dignity and grace.

Taurus Teneo had died the day that Shion had first read of Athena's return in the stars.

"Your master was a wise and respected man, Aldebaran," Saga said quietly, turning his face away from the young potential to stare out of the window again. He said nothing else, and Aldebaran didn't push.

Duty to Athena.

Duty to his heart.

Oh, how he envied Aiolos for having the two be the same.

* * *

It was nearing midday when the figure appeared on the path to Sanctuary's gates. Clad in a dusty, dirty and torn cloak, face shielded by an oversized hood, their presence immediately had the gate guards on alert. They both tensed, moving into fighting stances, because even though the new arrival was on the small side they knew to take  _no_ chances. "Halt!" the first guard said authoritatively. "State your intentions!"

The figure paused in mid-step, then stumbled and dropped to his knees. His hood fell back, and both guards were shocked to see the youthful face beneath it, proof that the their short stature was due to  _age_  – and that such a young child could have made it through the mountains to Sanctuary on their own.

The youth lifted his head to look at the guards, his expression imploring despite the bruises that discolored his jaw. "Please," he said. "I need to see… I  _have_  to see the Grand Master. Shion. Aries Shion.  _Please._ "

The guards looked at each other in astonishment, but before either of them could figure out how to respond to such a request – one did not just  _walk_   _up_  to Sanctuary and beg to see the Grand Master – they both sensed the ever-soothing Cosmos of the man in question behind them, and immediately turned at attention.

Shion's entire focus was on the boy, his lavender eyes wide with shock as he took in the shaggy, moss-colored hair, the dark eyes so hauntingly familiar, and youthful softness to a face that he  _knew_  would one day mature to sharp angles and severe expressions. He didn't need to ask the boy who he was;  _he knew_.

Their eyes met; then the Capricorn Saint's rolled up into the back of his head and he collapsed forward into Shion's arms, falling into unconsciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ::wrings hands nervously together:: 
> 
> Well...here it is. Chapter 13, never before published. After all the hyping up I've been doing for it, granted, I'm a little nervous about finally releasing it. This also ends my more-or-less guaranteed weekly publishing, at least for EoI - I'm going to start working on bringing over my other stories while I work on Chapter 14. But the more everyone tells me what they think, the more likely I am to get that one out faster. Provided that you like this one, at least. It's a bit of a tonal shift, I know. 
> 
> A couple of notes here. First, after binging several episodes of Saintia Sho in a row, I've decided that I prefer the translation of 'Grand Master' for Kyoko, rather than using the standard term or translating it as 'Pope'. It always felt a little awkward using 'Kyoko' when none of the characters are Japanese or are speaking Japanese, but 'Pope' never rolled right in my head even through I know it's the traditional translation. So it will be Grand Master going forward, and I'll update the previous chapters accordingly as I can. 
> 
> Second, food for thought as I move forward with these chapters - most of this story was conceptualized before a lot of the additional material (Omega, Soul of Gold, Episode G, Saintia Sho, and the official prequel that Kuramada released). As such, I will not be using a lot of that material as canon *for* EoI, although I will definitely be working elements I enjoy in as they fit and if I can. I haven't altered much of my overreaching plot even with the large hiatus, so I hope everyone will allow me that creative license. 
> 
> So! With that out of the way! If you *have* enjoyed this latest installment and wish to follow any updates I have on the next chapter, or just my writing in general, please don't forget to look for me on my tumblr: https://akatsuki-celeste.tumblr.com/ or my Twitter: https://twitter.com/AkatsukiCeleste. Or just send me messages here! I love chatting about ideas and characters and concepts, and I'll especially enjoy hearing thoughts on this one.


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